


Somewhere far away from here

by angelichl



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha Louis, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Art Museums, Beach House, Bond Breaking, Bonding, Broken Harry, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, I promise, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Nesting, Omega Harry, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Louis, Psychological Trauma, Recovery, Rutting, Scent Marking, Scenting, Showers, Soul Bond, between harry and an unnamed alpha
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-12 21:09:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 106,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12968475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelichl/pseuds/angelichl
Summary: Seven months ago, Harry was attacked by a faceless alpha and forcibly bonded. He lives every day in fear and subservience until four strangers detain the abusive alpha and rescue Harry. The following months contain the struggle and difficulty of recovering from a past so dark he's afraid to let anyone get too close. That is, until Louis Tomlinson.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I promised an omega!Harry fic so here it is.
> 
> As some additional warnings, there are clear mentions of physical, emotional, and sexual abuse. Mild panic attacks and other responses to trauma are also depicted. If you have any questions about the content prior to reading, don't be afraid to ask me!
> 
> Enjoy <3
> 
> PS the title is from Sign of the Times, of course. I thought it was quite fitting to the story :)

 

Adira Bennett,  _Heavy Limbs_ :

 

_“_

_He fucks me on his couch._  
_My legs are propped up on the coffee table,_  
_left foot nudging a framed photograph_  
_of him and his wife on their wedding day._  
_He is three times my age._  
_Touches my skin like crumbling sunshine._  
_I want to feel guilty, but I feel nothing._

_…_

_I feel the first strip of skin_  
_catch fire across my spine._  
_He whips again. Waits_  
_for me to scream, but I don’t._  
_I know better than to get between_  
_a man and his desire to make object_  
_of my body. I crawl home purpled_  
_across my back with a victory_  
_that tastes like losing_  
_between my gritted teeth._

_…_

_I don’t want it. He knows_  
_I don’t want it. But we both quickly_  
_come to the understanding that he wants it and_  
_he has ninety pounds on me, so_  
_I had best step aside from my own skin._  
_He fucks me like he is trying to twist a knife_  
_straight to my womb. The ropes of muscle_  
_in his heavy limbs creak._

_Two weeks later,_  
_the special victims detective explains to me_  
_that I should have left the room._

_I decline to press charges._

_”_

 

 

 

 

 

 

Harry Styles is a victim of his very own biology.

 

Consequently, however, he is also a survivor of his biology.

 

This is where the survivor’s guilt comes in, in fact. This is where Harry lies in bed each night, staring at the ceiling, and thinking of all the omegas in history that have been violated as he has. Controlled unwillingly by alphas, oppressed, objectified, stolen away. Raped. Enslaved. This is when he lies there and stares at the ceiling and wonders why he survived while others did not.

 

It’s the luck of the draw, he supposes, which is horrifying in itself. Because why in the fucking world is Harry _lucky_ enough to survive (if one could call it ‘lucky’) while others aren’t awarded that same fortune? Why is his attacker kind enough to let him live while others aren’t?

 

The longer Harry thinks about it, the sicker he feels, so instead he squeezes his eyes shut and prays he’ll fall asleep. He’s exhausted—he’s been exhausted for months now. He just. Can’t sleep. Hasn’t been able to sleep ever since that awful day.

 

The truth is, he can’t sleep because the smell is suffocating. It’s the smell of the monster that _attacked_ him, the smell of a desperate, violent alpha. It’s a heavy odor, thick and oppressive, and nothing sweet like the kind alphas who had courted him in the past. No, this scent is awful, intense, and weighty. It smells like dirt and oil and mold. Like gasoline fires and everything unholy.

 

Alphas always smell natural and musky and sweet, in a way. Their fragrances should be comforting and seductive and desirable. Instead, Harry’s alpha’s sent is horrid, like rotting wood and the decomposition of stale corpses.

 

It engulfs him, swarms around him, and smothers him. It is the reason Harry cannot sleep at night, lying atop a bed covered in the vile odor.

 

But if Harry thinks about it enough, he knows deep down it isn’t the scent that’s the problem. The real problem is the alpha. The alpha who attacked him.

 

It happened seven months ago, in October. One moment he had been walking across the parking garage towards his car, antsy to get home and start preparing for his approaching heat. The next moment he was being slammed against the wall by a heavy, aggressive force. His keys clattered out of his hands in shock, and there dissipated his chance of pressing the button to trigger his car alarm.

 

He would’ve screamed and screamed and screamed, but he didn’t. He _couldn’t_. The faceless alpha had ordered him to be quiet before Harry could release an omega shriek.

 

No one came to help him. It was late at night and a Wednesday, and the parking garage was nearly empty. From the very start, he knew he had no chance of making it out of this situation in one piece.

 

Suddenly there was an excruciating pain in his neck that felt like a million bee stings all at once, and he at once what had happened. The feral alpha had sunk his teeth into Harry’s scent gland, bonding him. Traitorously, Harry’s omega took over and he was helpless to do anything but fall limp against the wall and whimper pathetically.

 

After that, he was pretty much stuck in paralysis. It felt like he had been drugged, but Harry knew it had been from the bite mark on his scent gland—the very mark that would bond Harry to the alpha forever. The alpha dragged him away from the wall, and the rest of it was a blur.

 

When he came back to reality, hours later, he was in an unfamiliar flat, lying on an unfamiliar bed, being pounded into an unfamiliar mattress.

 

This was it: the moment in Harry’s life in which his own biology betrayed him. It was painful. It was horrid. The omega within him was nothing but a supplicant, and in that moment the omega within him was stronger than any other part of him. Harry was reduced to his biology, reduced to his status, reduces to a obedient, docile submissive. Almost as if he was nothing but a toy. A doll.

 

Harry used to love life. He used to love being an omega, too, most of the time at least. He loved the possibility of finding an alpha who would take care of him and the possibility of creating a family one day. He used to not mind being dainty and delicate, smelling like flowers and fruits. He used to enjoy the option of becoming a homemaker and living in domestic bliss. He used to be excited about the possibility of falling in love, and soulbonding, and living happily ever after.

 

Harry used to love life, and he used to love being an omega. But he had never, _ever_ wanted to die as much as he did in that moment.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

After seven months of fear and dread, Harry had become accustomed to it. Now he’s is used to the feeling of being used, completely objectified, turned into nothing but a hole to knot. He’s used to following commands and obeying his alpha. He’s used to never leaving the flat, never seeing more of the outside world than the large, creaky, industrial windows allow.

 

It’s a surprisingly nice view of the Cuyahoga River below—the very river that notoriously caught fire in the late sixties, due to heavy pollution. This is his only view of the outside world: the river full of languid water, and the small stretch of blue sky which holds Cleveland’s entire skyline in one image.

 

Aside from the view, there isn’t much else. Harry lives in his alpha’s apartment, which had actually been converted from an industrial factory about a decade ago. It’s pleasantly roomy for an apartment, but unpleasantly cold all throughout winter, so much to the point where he has to bundle up in hoodies and fuzzy socks and blankets just to keep warm, since his omega body is much more sensitive to the cold than any other gender’s.

 

Harry sighs and reluctantly leaves his secret nest—the one he doesn’t let his alpha know about. He has a fake nest made on their shared bed, and that’s where he sleeps at night, with his alpha on top of him, usually. He hates it though. He hates it so much.

 

His secret nest, now that’s the one he loves. He loves it because it smells like him and only him. No alpha. It would be a million times better with the scents of his mum, his sister, his family, but that isn’t possible anymore and it won’t be possible for the rest of eternity. So he scents his own clothes and spare blankets and pillows until he can’t smell his own alpha anymore, and then he hides them away in the secret compartment his alpha doesn’t know about.

 

Harry stumbled upon the secret compartment only a month into the ‘relationship’. He had been sitting by the open window while his alpha was at work, gazing out longingly at the undisturbed nature and playing with his rings, when he accidentally dropped one of them. It rolled across the wood floor, all the way underneath the large wooden wardrobe against the wall.

 

So he dropped to the ground and stuck his cheek on the floor, searching underneath the wardrobe for his runaway ring. He spotted it, but couldn’t reach it with his arm. He tried his foot but couldn’t get his leg far enough underneath the wardrobe. Sighing, he stood up and moved the heavy piece of furniture away from the wall, using all the strength his omega body could muster. It took some forceful shoving and frustrated groaning, but eventually the wardrobe was out of the way.

 

When he bent down to pick up his ring, however, he noticed something odd on the wall. It was an impression of a door, covered in the dark red paint that coated the room’s walls. Curious, he ran his fingertips along the seam. Then, on a whim, he placed his palm flat in the center of the impression and pushed forward.

 

The wall gave way, and the door opened.

 

Inside was a small, cramped space, with just enough room for a singular person to fit in. It was dark and cold but Harry couldn’t help but shriek in glee. This was exactly what he needed—a safe, private place to hide. It was perfect for creating a real nest, where nothing would smell like his alpha. He closed the door and pushed the wardrobe back in place, resigned to never reveal its existence to his alpha.

 

From then on, the secret compartment in the wall would be his safe haven, where he kept his secret nest.

 

Now, though, Harry has to leave the comforting space and rejoin his real life which consists of managing the house. He doesn’t have to cook dinner tonight because his alpha has an event for his work and Harry is expected to accompany him. He knows he should feel excited about leaving the flat for the first time in weeks, but he’s more frightened than anything. Harry knows that if he slips up in even the slightest of ways in front of his alpha’s coworkers and the higher-ups, his alpha will make him regret it. Harry is no stranger to the word _punishment_. In fact, he’s become quite keenly intimate with that specific word these past seven months.

 

Even though he doesn’t have to cook dinner, though, he has a ton of other chores to do before his alpha gets home, so he gets to work. He vacuums the floor, windexes the windows, and washes the dishes in the sink. The apartment is so lacking in amenities he has to wash the laundry by hand in a big basin filled with warm soapy water, and hang them out to dry in the bathroom.

 

When his alpha gets home, he’s in a bad mood. His face is set in a grimace and his jaw is clenched and taught. He looks angry.

 

He smells angry, too. The scent of hi is worse than usual and it nearly makes Harry gag. Instead, he cowers away in fear and desperately wishes he was back in his secret nest.

 

“Why aren’t you fucking ready to leave? We have to be there in twenty minutes,” Harry’s alpha growls, tossing his work bag down near the doorway for Harry to clean up later.

 

“I’m sorry,” Harry whimpers, rushing away to the bedroom to get dressed. He hastily pulls on a pair of black skinny jeans and a nice taupe turtle-neck jumper. His alpha insists Harry cover his neck during the rare times he actually gets to leave the flat.

 

Running his fingers through his hair in a futile attempt to make it less messy, Harry stares at his reflection in the mirror. Harry’s eyes are wide and fearful, his hands shaking. He looks alert, and frightened. But... he also looks tired. Exhausted, even.

 

He knows it’s from months of not sleeping. From months of being so afraid, he can barely think straight.

 

Harry has to look away. It hurts to much just to see himself life this, week and tortured and in pain. Stuck, _trapped_. He turns away from the mirror and pulls on his black Chelsea boots. When he returns to the door his alpha is standing there tapping his foot, looking more impatient than ever. Harry apologizes profusely and tries not to flinch away when his alpha attacks him in a scalding kiss, all tongue and teeth and heat.

 

They finally leave the former factory and get into his gaudy sports car. Harry carefully folds his hands over his lap and stares at the city flashing past him as they drive down the crowded, lively streets. It’s Friday night. Right.

 

He can do this.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

The dinner for Harry’s alpha’s work is at the art museum. It brings a certain ache deep to Harry’s core, because he was leaving the art museum the night he was attacked, all those months ago.

 

Harry was an art student who had graduated three months prior, and was shadowing a museum curator. The work should’ve been boring, but Harry found it fascinating. That Wednesday night in October, he had even elected on his own volition to work overtime and finish the collection he was documenting. He wanted to finish it before his heat, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to return for the following few days because of his heat. So he stayed late, and it turned out to be the biggest mistake of his entire existence.

 

It was eleven at night when he finally left the museum and walked up the stairs to the third floor of the parking garage. It hurts to know how close he was to his car… how he almost made it to safety. But then the alpha was slamming him against the wall and biting his neck and commanding him to be still, and there was nothing he could do but fall completely compliant.

 

His heat arrived the next day and he thanked his lucky stars he was on birth control. The night he was abducted he had already been knotted countless times by the vile alpha, and without birth control he would’ve stood no chance of avoiding pregnancy. So he sighed in slight relief, through the pain and the fear and the horror, and thanked god for the shot he received once a year that made him infertile.

 

Out of all the heats ever since Harry presented as an omega when he was a teenager, this one was the most miserable. It’s quite ironic, since it was the first one he spent with an alpha.

 

But it was absolutely horrid. Harry’s body betrayed him. Harry was so disgusted and horrified by this vile man, so much it made him shake with anger and revulsion. But his body betrayed him. The omega within him controlled him, and he spent the days following his abduction with his bum in the air, begging to be fucked by _his alpha_. The alpha who had forcefully bonded him. The shame he felt was unmatchable.

 

After his heat, his alpha commanded Harry to call in to his advisor and tell her he had to quit his internship due to a family conflict. Thus, he was efficiently cut off from the outside world and destined to life confined by the four walls of his alpha’s apartment.

 

So tonight is painful. It hurts more than anything because he’ll be closer than ever to his old life. The life where he was young and hopeful and excited about everything… the one where he wasn’t ashamed to be an O… the one where he actually thought he had a chance at finding a mate who truly loved him and valued him and treated him as an equal instead of as an object…

 

They park in the exact parking garage where Harry was attacked, all those months ago. He closes his eyes as his alpha leads him into the museum he knows so well. He keeps his eyes closed and tries desperately not to cry.

 

While meeting his alpha’s coworkers and bosses, Harry is on his best behavior. He plays the part of the perfect omega, batting his eyelashes and smiling coyly. He doesn’t say a word; he just stands there and looks pretty, like a trophy. An object. When they walk through the museum, Harry’s gait falls exactly two steps behind his alpha’s, like he’s been taught.

 

By the end of the night, he’s so sick of being called a _pretty little thing_ by gross alphas in pristine suits. All he wants is to go home. Home, as in his childhood home, not his alpha’s flat. He wishes desperately to be a child again, but more than that, he wishes desperately to be dead.

 

The only saving grace of the night is the art. If his alpha allowed him to drink, it would be the alcohol, but alas, he is devastatingly sober. So when his alpha finally lets him go, Harry wanders quietly through the galleries and observes the beautiful, ageless paintings and sculptures.

 

Subconsciously, he ambles further and further away from his alpha. Further and further away from the party in general. He loses himself in the maze of rooms, loses himself in the beauty of the art, loses himself in the stillness of the galleries.

 

He spends an inordinate amount of time in front of Claude Monet’s _Water Lilies (Agapanthus)_. It’s amazing that the Cleveland Museum of Art has such a famous piece of Monet’s work. The canvas spans the entirety of the wall and shimmers in shades of lavender. It is so calming, so peaceful. Despite impossibility, he wishes achingly that he could go to the water lilies.

 

“Harry?”

 

At the sound of his name being called, the omega whirls around.

 

“Louise?” He responds, much quieter, at the sight of one of his internship advisors hurrying across the gallery to greet him.

 

“Oh Harry I thought I’d never see you again!” She cries, as dramatic as ever. She rushes in to give him a hug but Harry backs away quickly. She frowns at him and looks inquisitive.

 

“My alpha,” the omega mumbles, folding his hands behind his back. Lou is an alpha, and if she hugs Harry in greeting, her scent will cling to him and his alpha will know. He will be able to smell it and he will be very angry. As alphas go, he quite fits the possessive stereotype. And Harry knows all too well how terrifying his alpha can be.

 

Lou raises her eyebrows at his admission. “Oh? I didn’t know you were bonded.”

 

“Ehm, yeah,” Harry whispers, for some reason feeling like it’s a dirty secret he shouldn’t share. It kind of is, though, in Harry’s eyes at least. He was forced into this and now he’s caught, trapped. There’s nothing he can do, even though there’s this part of him that wants to tell Louise—this part of him that wants to beg her for help.

 

No. He can’t do that. Harry belongs to his alpha now, they are bonded, and there is no escape. Nothing he can do. He will forever be bound to the vile alpha and this is just a truth he has to live with.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

Harry’s eyes widen, and he feels as if he’s been caught. He stutters and then squeezes his hands together behind his back, recollecting himself. “What? I’m fine… All good… What makes you ask?”

 

She shakes her head. “Nothing. Sorry,” Louise mutters, and then she gives him a pitying look and walks away.

 

After that, Harry decides it’s time to rejoin his alpha before he gets into even more trouble. He has to drag himself away from his dreamy respite, and the intangible loss hurts so much he almost cowers underneath the pain. Instead, he steels himself away and walks back to the party.

 

All the while he can’t shake the feeling of Louise’s wide, suspicious eyes on him.

 

That night, Harry’s alpha beats him so hard, he passes out. He’s lucky he isn’t conscious for what the monster does to him afterwards.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

Weekends are awful, but weekdays bring reprieve. Harry prefers weekdays because it means he has the apartment to himself. He knows that if he completes his chores quickly, he can curl up in his nest for an hour or two before his alpha comes home.

 

So that’s what he does the Monday following the Friday night at the art museum. He hurries through his chores and then hides away in the secret compartment, curling up in his nest.

 

His body is aching. He feels like he’s been run over by a truck. The truth is that he was beaten to a pulp. His skin is battered; his thighs, his tummy, and his face are all covered in scratches. He has a sickly purple bruise blossoming painfully on his jaw, and an entire array full of other, worse bruises on the rest of his body. And that’s not even mentioning the pain in his bum. No amount of slick his body emitted could’ve lessened the pain of his alpha shoving in him without prepping him. The weekend was full of painful fucking, the monster using his alpha voice and commanding Harry to get on all fours and stay that way. There was nothing the omega could do but comply. It was torturous.

 

And now he just feels… gross. And hurt. Really, really hurt. Defiled, in a way. Ruined.

 

Above the hurt, though, is something worse.

 

It’s the feeling of being lost.

 

_You’re not lost if no one is looking for you_ , he reminds himself drearily, snuggling deeper into the spare blanket he scented. He’s so afraid and so in pain and all he wants to do is stay in his secret nest forever—he wants to sleep forever.

 

His subconscious reminds him that _sleep forever_ is the coward way of saying _die_. He doesn’t care. It’s all the same, death is the eternal sleep. And he really is exhausted.

 

Right now, though, the weight of his guilt is crushing down on him again. It is a constant, devastating weight. Every day, thousands of omegas are abused. Every day, hundreds of omegas die from this abuse.

 

Harry is one of the lucky ones, lucky in the sense that he’s still alive.

 

Although, in that twisted way, he can’t help but feel envious of the ones who didn’t make it.

 

It’s fucked up, and Harry knows it. He knows it, and he hates himself for it. There’s nothing left for him to do.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

Harry is on his knees, naked.

 

He’s standing on his knees where his alpha ordered him to go. He’s facing the wall, hands clasped behind his back, raising himself with his toes curled beneath his feet, ready and at attention. Obedient. He stares down at his throbbing dick and feels traitorous slick leak out of his bum, making a mess on the floor. He knows he’ll be ordered to clean it up later, with his mouth even, and the anticipation of such a degrading event is humiliating.

 

Still, he waits patiently, helpless to do anything else. When he is ordered to do something by an alpha who uses his alpha voice, the omega has no choice to comply. His body won’t _let_ him rebel.

 

So he sits and waits and prepares himself for hell.

 

He wonders what his monster has in store for him. He hopes it isn’t too bad. Unfortunately, he has a sinking feeling it involves his big alpha knot and Harry’s mouth. Harry hates giving him blowjobs because it’s so scary, being compelled on his knees force, mouth open wide. It’s the feeling of suffocation, the feeling of entrapment, the feeling of total, utter submission. It’s horrifying. Having his alpha’s not locked in his mouth, blocking his throat, his airway. It’s dangerous. So dangerous and terrifying. And yet he has to do it nearly every other day.

 

The omega sits and waits and prepares himself for hell. But hell never comes.

 

One moment he hears his alpha in the living room, and the next he hears a dreadful silence.

 

And then—

 

Chaos.

 

There’s the sound of shouting, a horrifying scream. A guttural growl. Unfamiliar smells flood into the apartment. There is crashing and smashing and yelling and growling and Harry is frightened, so frightened. Afraid afraid afraid.

 

The smells come closer and in his terror Harry recognizes two distinct, unfamiliar alphas. They smell warm and musky like alphas typically do, but in the scent Harry recognizes agitation and anger and aggressiveness.

 

Harry is so frightened his hands are shaking. He desperately wants to move, wants to run away, wants to pull back the wardrobe and hide in his secret compartment. He wants to curl up in his real nest and never come out. He is so frightened. He is paralyzed with fear. And. He just. Can’t move. Because his alpha ordered him to stay still. And he cannot disobey orders.

 

There’s more crashing and growling and Harry thinks for sure he is going to die. For certain. And then he thinks that maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing. Maybe this is exactly what he needs. Maybe he just wants the misery to be over.

 

So he stays still and waits for his life to end. He stands on his knees with his legs spread and his toes curled under his feet, naked and ready and waiting and vulnerable. _God fucking damn it_ , why is he always so vulnerable?

 

One of the smells clouds the room and it isn’t the smell of an alpha. It’s something different… a beta. This person’s smell is clear and sweet and unimposing. Even though it has a tinge of anxiety in it, it calms Harry. The footsteps approach and Harry can do nothing but stay still and face the wall.

 

“Omega?” A voice calls, low and raspy, but the voice of a beta nonetheless.

 

Harry doesn’t move. He can’t. His alpha told him _be still_ and _shut the fuck up_ in his commanding alpha voice. Harry is helpless to do anything but comply.

 

“Omega it’s alright. We can help you. We’re here to get you out of here.”

 

But Harry can’t move.

 

“Are you- are you being forced?” The voice asks, bewilderment clear in his voice. He sounds and smells perplexed. “Did he order you not to move or speak?”

 

Harry can’t do anything. He stares down at his crotch where his dick is soft and flaccid from the fear. He sees the mess of slick on the floor—the evidence that his body has betrayed him.

 

The beta comes closer and stands by his side so the beta can see Harry’s face. “Blink twice if he ordered you to stay still, omega.”

 

Harry blinks twice.

 

“Fuck,” the beta swears, and in his peripheral vision Harry can blurrily see him running a hand through his raven black hair. “I’ll be right back. We’ll get you out of here, I promise.”

 

He hears footsteps on the wood floor slowly travel further and further away. Then, the sound of the beta’s raspy voice rings clear in the air: “Lou, I need you over here.”

 

There’s another growl and a guttural screech. “One second!” A high voice calls back.

 

There’s more screaming and growling and Harry listens as his alpha shrieks and yells. He feels a sinking in his heart, and it feels like pain. Ever since they bonded, Harry has been able to feel his alpha’s emotions. He feels them deeply and most of them are dark and disgusting, and they hurt him. They hurt him. Harry feels his alpha’s emotions and these feelings make him want to die.

 

From the sound outside the room, Harry is certain the intruders are hurting his alpha. The omega within Harry wants to scream and cry and tell them to STOP, STOP, that’s HIS alpha, that’s HIS ALPHA. But he has been commanded to stay silent, and the part of Harry that isn’t omega relishes in the thought that his alpha might actually _die_.

 

There’s one long, throaty howl from Harry’s alpha, and then he falls silent. The aching in Harry’s bondmark suddenly feels as though a brandishing iron is pressing into the skin. The pain is excruciating in the most primal way.

 

Footsteps hurry back into the bedroom and Harry is still staring down at his crotch and wondering what the fuck is going on. He wishes he was wearing clothes. He wishes he was in his nest. He wishes he was dead.

 

“What’s wrong?” That high, light voice asks, and with the sounds comes a flooding of unfamiliar alpha smell in the bedroom.

 

“His A ordered him to stay there and now he can’t move,” the beta explains quietly. Harry strains to hear the words over the beating of his frantic frightened heart.

 

“Z, you know how painful it’ll be for him when I do this.”

 

_Do what?_ Harry thinks wildly. His hands shake. Painful? Harry is sick of pain—Harry hates pain. He doesn’t hate anything, but he hates pain.

 

“You have to, though. We won’t be able to get him out of here if you don’t.”

 

The alpha sighs. Harry can’t help it when he inhales his scent. It smells like pine trees and autumn leaves and cinnamon mixed with sweet apple cider. In his scent, the fragrance of a forest fire lingers, and it smells like adrenaline.

 

“Omega,” the alpha begins in a clear, commanding voice. “Stand up.”

 

And then it feels as though Harry is breaking. It feels as though his body is ripping itself to pieces. Part of him is determined to obey his alpha’s orders, and another part of him desperately wants to listen to what this stranger is commanding him to do.

 

On top of it all, there’s this part of Harry, deep within his bones, that is not an omega. The marrow of his bones knows no gender—it is not omega or beta or even alpha. It is just… It just is. This is the part of him that wants to obey no orders. This is the part of him that is independent, autonomous, and wholly sovereign.

 

“Omega, _stand up_ ,” the alpha intruder orders again. His voice is authoritative but not cruel. Despite himself, Harry likes the way it sounds. It’s like a steady melody. Beautiful, in a way.

 

Harry’s resolution crumbles. His hands shake. The frightened omega within him realizes that his alpha is not here, and now he has to listen to the intruder. He trembles, and stands slowly. His knees buckle but he presses a hand to the wall and feels how solid it is beneath his fingers. He wants to be in his nest. He wants to be dead.

 

He turns around instead.

 

“Good omega,” the alpha croons, standing casually with his hands behind his back.

 

He instinctually relaxes, if only minutely, under the praise. Harry is surprised to find that this alpha intruder does not look imposing in the slightest. The way he stands, legs spread indifferently, face calm and composed, is different from the way Harry’s alpha always stands.

 

He also realizes that this alpha is shorter than Harry. Actually _shorter_ than Harry. Harry’s alpha is a big hulking man twice Harry’s size in width, all scary and intimidating. But this alpha, on the other hand, is smaller and curvier. He looks sweeter, sounds sweeter, and smells sweeter too.

 

Harry can’t help but stare at this alpha with blue eyes and auburn hair and curvy hips. He can’t help but stare, and feel… calm?

 

_Oh_. The alpha is scenting him, releasing calming pheromones into the air. Harry slumps against the wall and inhales the pine-laden air, allowing the fabricated tranquility to wash over him like the ripples of the river outside.

 

‘Good omega,” the alpha repeats, voice sweet but still tinged with alpha timbre. “Now, I need you to come with us. When we get outside, I need you to be quiet. And I need you to listen to Zayn too, okay?”

 

Harry nods slowly, feeling dazed but calm under the influence of the alpha’s scent.

 

The alpha leaves the room, but his fragrance lingers. Harry sucks it in greedily through his nose and slumps further against the wall.

 

“Do you have anything valuable? Anything you need to bring with you? We won’t be coming back, so grab anything.”

 

Harry pauses and ponders. The thing is, he doesn’t _have_ anything. Everything valuable is gone now, lost. His alpha had made trashed Harry’s old apartment, throwing everything out and leaving no trace of Harry. The last rent was paid and suddenly the apartment wasn’t Harry’s anymore and he was living solely with his attacker and everything was awful and horrifying.

 

Harry doesn’t have any possessions of his own except for the rings on his fingers and the crucifix around his neck. These items he never takes off. As of now, they are the only constants in his life.

 

“I don’t have anything,” he whispers.

 

The beta, Zayn, nods slowly and then leads Harry out of the room. The look he gives Harry isn’t pitying. It’s just. Thoughtful.

 

So here Harry is walking through the flat and he sees his alpha crumpled on the floor, eyes closed, blood leaking out of a wound on his head. The omega in Harry is shattering. That’s his _mate_.

 

The omega in Harry may be shattering at the sight, but the rest of Harry is rejoicing. _Free_. He is finally free.

 

Zayn leads him outside and here Harry is, bum naked beneath the sunset, following a stranger to the street. Getting into a car parked haphazardly between parking spaces. Blindly tagging along with two alphas and a beta who broke into his apartment and harmed his mate.

 

“Alright?” the alpha in the driver’s seat asks, once the door is closed. He is the one Harry hasn’t seen yet, and Harry knows now he must be the one who hurt his mate, since the other alpha was in the room with Harry and the beta.

 

“All good,” Zayn responds, nudging Harry into the seat and pulling the seatbelt over his naked body. Harry knows he should be shy or ashamed, but all he feels is a devastating mix of frightened and numb.

 

The car starts moving. Harry starts crying. It’s silent except for the sound of the tires on the city street and Harry’s pathetic sniffles sounding through the air.

 

“Give him a blanket at least,” the alpha with the blue eyes chides, turning around in his seat to face Harry and Zayn.

 

Zayn reaches to the back trunk and pulls out a fluffy green blanket, gently placing it over Harry. Harry stays complacent, willing to let anyone do whatever they want with him at this point. He feels so broken and destroyed. Obliterated.

 

The blue-eyed alpha shifts his piercing gaze to Harry.

 

“What’s your name, omega?”

 

His voice no longer has the alpha timbre. He’s asking, but giving Harry the opportunity to decide. To choose if he wants to disclose his name or not. The autonomy is unfamiliar but welcome.

 

“Harry,” he whispers quietly, deciding to tell them.

 

“Well hello then, Harry,” the alpha responds, his voice feather-light. Clearly, he is the leader of the trio. “My name is Louis.  That’s Zayn, and this is Liam.” He points the each person accordingly. “We’re a part of an organization, the AORS. Abused Omega Rescue Society. We investigate leads on abducted omegas, and when we find them we rescue them.”

 

Harry just nods. He doesn’t know what to make of any of this.

 

“You’re overwhelming him, Lou,” the beta hisses, scowling.

 

“He deserves to know.”

 

“Yeah, but maybe when he’s a bit more _lucid_.”

 

Louis rolls his eyes before turning to the alpha beside him, the one who is driving. “Liam, would you like to calm him down or should I?”

 

“Go ahead, Tommo.”

 

Louis turns around again so he’s facing the backseat where Harry sits, slumped against the window.

 

“Would you like to give me your wrist, omega? So I can scent you,” he explains. He adds, “You can say no, by the way,” as an afterthought.

 

Harry doesn’t say anything, but he pulls his arms to his chest protectively and squeezes the inside of his wrists to his bare skin of his shoulders where the blanket doesn’t cover. He doesn’t use his words but his actions are enough of an answer.

 

“Alright, that’s okay,” Louis whispers softly. He turns back around and faces forward, fiddling with the radio. A song drifts through the speakers, a song Harry recognizes. Something by Pink Floyd, with a long guitar solo.

 

As the song fills the gentle silence, a calming scent diffuses through the air too. It must be Louis, Harry realizes. It’s the scent of pine needles again, but the burning forest fragrance is long gone now. Now it’s nothing but the sweet, musky, calming scent that influences Harry’s eyes closed.

 

The omega in Harry may not be happy that the scent he’s inhaling isn’t _his_ alpha, but that’s okay. At this point, Harry thinks drowsily, his omega will take all it can get.

 

He’s asleep before the guitar solo even ends.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

He wakes up to Zayn shaking his arm gently, careful not to touch the scent glands on his wrist.

 

Harry opens his mouth to croak out a confused exclamation, but no sound comes out. He gazes at the beta beside him, eyes wild and fearful.

 

“Relax, we’re at a rest stop. The A’s are grabbing food. Are you hungry? Do you have to go to the bathroom?”

 

Now that Zayn mentions it, Harry is quite hungry. In fact, his stomach is on the verge of growling and it feels painfully empty. Also, his bladder feels painfully full. He nods fervently and jumps out of the car.

 

“Wait!” Zayn yells from the other side of the car, quickly jogging around to meet Harry. “You haven’t got any clothes on.”

 

Harry looks down at himself and sees he is indeed quite glaringly naked, with nothing but the green blanket draped over him. His eyes flit around the empty parking lot of the rest stop and then he stands there vulnerably, at a loss for what to do.

 

Zayn rifles around in the trunk of the SUV before pulling out a wad of clothes and tossing it at Harry. Harry fumbles and doesn’t catch it, watching the wad fall sadly to the ground. He picks up one of the items and finds it’s a navy hoodie. He pulls that on and then steps into the pajama pants.

 

“I don’t have shoes.”

 

Zayn scratches his chin, looking uncomfortable. “I’m not sure if we have any extras. I have socks though?”

 

“That’s fine,” Harry whispers. Once his feet are covered, Zayn takes his hand and guides him inside. They go to the bathroom, and the people in the building give Harry weird looks. Then they meet up with Louis and Liam at the vending machine. Zayn doesn’t drop Harry’s hand. Louis has a weird, screwed up look on his face.

 

“Nice outfit,” Louis comments, nodding at Harry’s trousers. Harry takes this opportunity to look down and notice that the PJ’s he’s wearing are baby blue with yellow rubber ducks on them. He doesn’t respond.

 

Liam inserts a twenty-dollar bill into the machine and presses the button for ten protein bars. He collects them in his arms and Louis grabs the spare change. On the way out Zayn refills two water bottles in the drinking fountain and offers one to Harry. Then they’re getting back into the car.

 

“Where are we going?” Harry has half a mind to ask.

 

“Michigan,” Louis responds. “We have to get far enough away that your A won’t come after you.”

 

“Louis has a big place in up north,” Liam adds. “On Lake Michigan. The bay, actually. A beach house. It’s nice.”

 

“Okay,” Harry says.

 

There’s a long silence as they drive on the highway through the dark. Harry is pretty sure Zayn is asleep beside him. Liam is still driving, and Louis is still turned around in his seat, looking at Harry.

 

“You’re safe with us, you know,” Louis whispers. Harry watches as the lights lining the highway glimmer across Louis’ pretty face as they speed down the empty interstate.

 

Again, Harry doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t look away from Louis’ blue eyes, which look dark in the faint, flickering light.

 

“You hurt my alpha,” he says eventually.

 

Louis nods, looking thoughtful. His face is soft. “We did.”

 

“You’re taking me away from my bondmate.”

 

“We are.”

 

Harry wrings his hands. He starts crying. “I’m far away from him, and it hurts. It feels like I can’t breathe.”

 

“It’ll get better,” Louis says softly. Again Harry smells pine needles, and he knows the alpha is intentionally scenting him. However it does little to calm the frightened omega. “It’ll hurt for a while, but it’ll get better. I promise.”

 

Harry sniffles into the blanket, squeezing his eyes shut. The tears leak out anyways. He misses his family. He misses his old life. He misses his mum and his sister and all of his uni friends. His misses them so much it hurts. It _hurts_.

 

“If you give me your wrist, I can help you feel better,” Louis reminds him. “I can calm you down, and then it won’t hurt as much.”

 

Harry doesn’t want to. If he does, he’ll practically be cheating on his alpha. His abusive, horrid, vile alpha, but his alpha nonetheless. And the omega within him will be confused and torn.

 

Harry doesn’t want to. But also, he does. Part of him does want this strange alpha to physically scent him and dull the aching.

 

He isn’t sure which part of him is stronger—the omega or the not-omega. He keeps his eyes closed and decides.

 

In the end, he reaches his wrist out and lets the strange alpha rub his own wrist on Harry’s. The feeling of soft skin on one of Harry’s most sensitive regions of his body leaves him gasping for air. Louis finally lets go and Harry sinks down in his seat, bringing his wrist to his face. He inhales deeply and breathes in pine needles. It calms him instantly, enough to get him to stop crying.

 

He sniffles quietly and licks his wrist. The omega in him does this to get rid of strange alpha’s scent and replace it with his own. The non-omega part of him does it just to get a taste of Louis.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

Halfway through the drive, Zayn and Liam switch seats so Liam can sleep. Louis is asleep in the passenger’s seat.

 

Harry is drowsy but awake. In the torturous, grueling limbo between lucidity and slumber, his heart aches for the very monster that abused him.

 

It isn’t right. It doesn’t make sense.

 

It happens anyway.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

They arrive at four in the morning, before the sun is even up. Harry has no idea where he is, but when he opens his eyes he sees nothing but shadowy evergreen trees passing by in a blur.

 

“We’re here,” Zayn says, his voice loud enough to wake the three sleeping boys. He pulls into a dirt driveway flanked by tall trees. As they travel down the rugged path, Zayn rolls his window down. The smell of _summer_ floods into the car. It’s wet rocks and pure sand and lake water and pine trees and morning breeze. It’s warmth and tranquility. It’s a June morning in Northern Michigan.

 

“Mmmfgh,” Louis moans, rubbing his eyes sleepily. When Zayn parks the car, he straightens his spine and stretches like a cat. Harry lifts his head from the window and looks around. In front of him is a large house with lots of beautiful windows. Liam wasn’t exaggerating when he said the place was big. It’s sort of like a palace, Harry thinks.

 

The four of them stumble out of the car and groggily gather their belongings. Harry doesn’t have any belongings of his own to gather, so he wraps himself up in the lime green blanket and helps the others carry their things.

 

Inside the house is just as beautiful as outside, and it smells faintly like Louis. Like pine needles. In the pre-morning light, Harry can’t make out much aside from the expansive kitchen with granite countertops, the large living room with an L-shaped couch and high ceilings, and the sunroom with walls made of windows and screens.

 

As he passes the sunroom he looks out, and his breath is stolen straight from his lungs. The view is _gorgeous_. It makes his heart ache. He stands there, dumbfounded, with a pile of miscellaneous items in his hands, and stares out at the view. There’s a large deck in front of him, and then a line of wooden stairs which lead down the dune to the beach.

 

And the beach, oh god. Sand upon sand upon sand, pure and white like the Caribbean. He had heard about Lake Michigan being this pretty, but he hadn’t believed it. Back in Ohio, the beaches on Lake Erie were rocky and full of sand that was mixed with dirt—when you stuck your feet in it, it stained your skin brown. But here… the sand is white and soft-looking, and clear for ages, only marred by reedy beach grass.

 

And then the water. The water is something else entirely. In the dull light of early morning, it’s a deep indigo color, and glistening in the faint illumination of the sky. The water is calm and waveless, gently kissing the shore before retreating back into the sea of indigo. The water goes on forever, all the way to the horizon. Harry cannot see land beyond it.

 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Liam asks by his side, voice laden with sleep.

 

Harry nods slowly in affirmation, drowsy but in awe.

 

“Let’s get you to your room, kiddo,” Liam sighs. He nods in the direction of the hallway where Louis and Zayn disappeared. Harry lets Liam lead the way.

 

They enter the room at the end of the hall, passing a few other bedrooms on the way there. Liam points out the rooms and labels them, whispering, “This is Louis’, this is Zayn and mine’s, this is Niall’s—you haven’t met him yet but he’s an O too. We rescued him a while ago, but we’re good friends now so he stays with us. I hope you don’t mind living with another O?”

 

Harry shakes his head, eager to go back to sleep. He doesn’t know who this Niall guy is, but frankly right now he’s too tired to care. Liam seems to get the message, so he pushes open the last door and guides Harry inside.

 

It’s a comfortably-sized room, with a twin bed below the window at the end. The ceilings are sloped and the room looks cozy. Aside from the bed, there’s not much else, just a dresser with a few drawers, an ornate mirror leaning against the wall, and a nightstand.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“No problem.” Liam raises his hand to ruffle Harry’s hair. Harry flinches but allows Liam to do it anyways. Liam pretends he doesn’t notice. “Sleep tight.”

 

“You too.”

 

As soon as Liam leaves the room, Harry locks the door and then strips completely out of Zayn’s clothes. Once he’s completely naked, he starts licking his wrists to get rid of the unfamiliar scents. What he really wants is a shower, but he has to make do with what he has in this situation right now.

 

So he licks his wrists and listens to the sound of his beating, aching heart. Then he collapses on the bed, too distraught even to make a nest. He collapses on the bed, and he falls asleep.

 

And he wishes he was dead.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

The morning brings confusion, and… fear, in the form of a heavy fist pounding on his door.

 

Harry wakes up groggy and startled. When he opens his eyes he has no idea where he is, and that frightens him. But above it all, there is a painful ache searing through his body. He bolts out of bed to get it to stop, but it doesn’t, and he cowers over, the pain effectively paralyzing him.

 

“Harry!” A loud voice yells, through the oak wood of the bedroom door.

 

Harry is helpless to do anything but stand beside his bed, arms wrapped around his middle, holding himself together. If he lets go, he’s certain the pain will shatter to pieces.

 

“Omega!” The voice screams, louder and louder still. Through the panic blossoming in his chest, clouding his ears, he hears other disgruntled voices at the doorway, arguing. At once the shrill voice rises again, and commands, “Omega, unlock the door!”

 

It’s a command, so Harry has no choice but to rush across the room and pull the pin out so the door clicks unlocked. There’s a steady, silent pause, and then the handle twists and the door swings open. Harry backs away in fear and stays huddled in on himself, in aching pain.

 

A swirl of smells hits Harry and he’s overwhelmed by all of it. He can smell imposing alpha and beta and nothing is familiar and all of it is frightening. He backs away quickly to the corner of the room and fervently wishes he had his secret compartment in the wall, his secret nest to keep him safe. He doesn’t have that though, so he does what he can, and screams his piercing omega scream.

 

The thing about omega screams is that they are the most painful, most anxiety-inducing sounds in the entire world. When an omega screams it means they are in immediate danger and they need help without delay. Harry would’ve let out an omega scream the night he was abducted, but his alpha had commanded him to be silent before he could do anything. Thus, he was resigned to quiet fear and an empty, open-mouthed, soundless scream.

 

This time, though, the alphas don’t order him to be quiet quickly enough, so he screams and screams and screams his omega scream, tears streaming down his face and soaking his skin. He sinks to the floor, curling in on himself, and he doesn’t stop screaming.

 

Vaguely he hears the intruders telling him to calm down, to stop screaming, but none of it is said as an order, so he does as he pleases and keeps shrieking his bloodcurdling omega scream.

 

And then that semi-familiar scent of pine needles and cinnamon is flooding the room, and Harry sort of recognizes it from the night before. It should be scary but somehow it isn’t, and it feels a lot like emotional manipulation, but he also feels himself relax. He slowly sinks against the wall and his screams die out, transforming into heavy whimpering and sobbing.

 

“Christ, you have to stop scenting him.”

 

“Well what the fuck was I supposed to do? Any minute now someone’s gonna come barging through the front door and accuse us of murder.”

 

The beta shakes his head. “This is a fucking mess.”

 

The alpha ignores him and slowly takes a step forward. Harry whimpers and opens his mouth to scream again.

 

“ _Shhh, shhhh_ ,” the alpha coos, effectively stopping Harry’s screech before it even leaves his throat.

 

Harry looks at him more closely, through the veil of salty tears, and sees that he recognizes this alpha from the night before. _Louis_ , right. Harry can’t help himself, and he begins to cry harder. But when Louis kneels down beside him he doesn’t flinch away.

 

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay. We’re here to keep you safe, remember?” Louis whispers, delicately placing his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “We won’t hurt you. You’re safe here.”

 

Harry stares up into the alpha’s eyes and desperately tries to decide if he’s being honest. When he doesn’t discover anything that depicts intent to harm him, he relaxes a little more and decides not to put up a fight. Louis sits down next to him and squeezes against him so their sides are pressed together. For some reason, the touch is grounding, especially mixed with the calming scent of pine needles which is the only thing he can smell. He should be mad for being scented against his will, but he can worry about that when he’s lucid. For now he just lets his head drop to the alphas shoulder, and cries.

 

He isn’t sure how much time passes before he stops crying, but eventually it happens. He sniffles quietly and feels Louis shifting beside him. All this time, he’s been talking to Harry to calm him down, but Harry really doesn’t remember many of the alpha’s words.

 

“You better now?”

 

Harry shakes his head yes, and wraps his arms back around his middle to keep the pieces together. “It hurts,” he whimpers.

 

“I know, honey, I know it hurts.” Louis sighs and stands up, offering Harry his hand. His wrists are covered by his sleeves so there’s no chance of Harry accidentally touching his scent glands, which would be incredibly rude. A’s and O’s typically don’t offer each other their hands for this reason, but Harry knows he can make an exception in this case. He lets Louis pull him up and then they stand there staring at each other, the tears in Harry’s eyes distorting his vision.

 

“What happened?” He asks, voice still all pathetic and omega-y.

 

“You’re far away from your bondmate. That’s why it hurts.”

 

“But— I—“ he fumbles for the words to say. He finds none.

 

“I’m not going to order you not to go back to him, but we rescued you for a reason. I know the omega in you is yearning for your mate right now, but the real part of you has to win over and constantly remind the O in you that your mate was abusive. Without him you’re free. It’ll hurt for a while but eventually the bond will break, and you’ll never have to think about him again.”

 

Harry moans quietly in pain at the thought of being separated from his mate. It hurts so much. The omega within him longs to go back to the industrial apartment overlooking the Cuyahoga River… longs to do his chores and hide in his nest before his mate comes home… longs to be knotted when his mate _does_ come home…

 

“I promise you, Harry, you can get through it. It hurts but you can get through it. Just ask Niall, he made it out alive. Alright?” Louis sighs and steps away, dropping Harry’s hand. It falls limp at his waist as he stares weakly at the A who seems so certain. “C’mon, omega. Breakfast is getting cold.”

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

It takes ten whole minutes for Harry to gather the courage to get dressed and leave his bedroom.

 

As soon as his hysteria passes he realizes he’s completely bum-naked again, and his face heats up in a beat-red blush. Fuck. He had totally forgotten he took Zayn’s clothes off before falling asleep last night. They smelled too unfamiliar to wear. But then he was sitting on the floor, crying into an alpha’s shoulder for an hour, _not wearing anything_. Fuck.

 

So he pulls the rubber duck pajamas on, and the hoodie too, but forgoes the socks. Sucking in a shaky breath of air to give him confidence, he steps out into the hall and heads toward the kitchen. On the way there he passes the living room and gazes quickly at the beautiful view, seen from the large, floor-length windows that overlook the lake. The water is teal-colored in the morning sun.

 

When he gets into the kitchen, he sees four people sitting around the old oak table in the attached dining room. They’re all eating and chattering happily, but when Harry enters they fall silent.

 

Liam is the one to break it. “Morning, Harry,” he greets, lifting his hand to gesture to the countertop which has a frying pan of scrambled eggs, a plate of mountainous amounts of toast, and a bowl of fruit. “Help yourself.”

 

Harry nods, tucking his chin to his chest like he always does when he’s nervous. It’s an omega thing, to protect his neck from unwanted threats, like someone scenting him without permission, or god-forbid biting him without his consent. As in, exactly what happened to Harry last October in the parking garage. He shudders, and tries to push the memory from his mind. The recollection always makes him wish he wasn’t an omega, but more than that it makes him wish he was dead. Which. Is not good.

 

So he shovels a bit of scrambled eggs onto his plate, adds a slice of toast, and then piles on a decent amount of mixed fruit. Usually he would be excited about the slices of pineapple, strawberry, and banana, but right now he just really doesn’t feel hungry. He keeps his chin tucked to his chest, eyes downcast on the floor, and sits down hesitantly on the empty seat at the end of the table, between Louis and Zayn.

 

When he looks up from his plate, he makes eye contact with the person he hasn’t met yet—the omega. Embarrassed and ashamed, he looks back down quickly, averting his eyes.

 

“Harry, this is Niall, the other O. We um, rescued him a while ago and we’re good friends now. Niall, this is Harry,” Liam offers, gesturing between the two of them awkwardly.

 

Niall lifts his hand and gives Harry a small wave. Harry meets his eyes again and tries to smile but it falls on his face like a grimace. Niall smiles back softly and then everyone at the table goes back to the conversation from before Harry interrupted with his unconventional presence.

 

They’re talking about their plans for the day. Niall says the weather is nice, so he’s going to the golf course down the road. Zayn has an art gallery tonight that he has to set up during the day, and Liam offers to accompany him. Louis says he had planned on going to the store.

 

But then his eyes meet Harry’s and he smiles gently. “Wanna come to the store with me? You can say no,” he asks softly.

 

Harry shakes his head shyly, biting the inside of his cheek. No.

 

“Okay, that’s alright. I’ll stay home with you then.”

 

Harry wants to say something about Louis not needing to babysit him, but honestly he understands. Especially given how Harry reacted this morning, Louis has every right to be concerned and want to keep an eye on him.

 

After breakfast, Harry helps Zayn do the dishes, and by the time they’re finished everyone has already dispersed. Zayn retreats to his bedroom (which he _shares_ with Liam) because he has to get dressed to leave for the gallery.

 

On his way back to his own bedroom, because he has nothing better to do, Harry wonders if Zayn and Liam are mated. He doesn’t remember seeing a mark on Zayn, but then again he wasn’t paying attention. Even then, they may be mated without being bonded, and that means Zayn wouldn’t have a mark at all, so. It’s not really any of his business, though, so his mind wanders elsewhere.

 

When he gets to his bedroom it’s depressingly empty. Just the bed, dressed, mirror, and nightstand. Nothing else. Harry owns nothing; he has no belongings, no possessions.

 

Bored, and aching in his chest, he collapses on his bed and decides to maybe fall asleep. It’s ten in the morning, but the constant pain in his heart, due to the separation from his mate, is exhausting him.

 

Before he can fall asleep, however, there’s a soft knock on his door. It’s Zayn.

 

“Hey Harry?”

 

“Yeah?” He asks quietly, voice muffled by the pillow.

 

“I know you don’t have any clothes, so you can go into my closet if you want. Take anything you need.”

 

Maybe Harry is an overly emotional omega, but for some reason this makes him feel weepy. He presses his face into the pillowcase that smells of detergent, and mumbles a weak, “thank you.” The door closes, and Harry is left alone again.

 

Again, it takes a lot of determination and motivation for Harry to get out of bed. Somehow he does it, a half hour later, and he ventures down the hall in search of clothing to wear. Using his nose, he determines which room is Zayn’s and steps inside. The door is open and the room is empty, and since Harry heard a car driving away twenty minutes ago he assumes Zayn and Liam have already left.

 

He feels a little weird being in their room when they’re not there, and even weirder about it because it smells like beta and alpha and sex. It’s not common for an O, or anyone really, to enter the bedroom of a mated couple. It makes his skin itch, and he almost turns around and runs out, but then he lays sight on the closet and remembers why he’s here.

 

With that itch still in his skin he picks out a few garments from the bottom of Zayn’s closet, figuring the beta won’t miss them as much since they’re shoved to the back of the closet. Tentatively, he brings the wad of sweats and t-shirts and shorts to his nose and sniffs. The scent isn’t unpleasant, per say, but it’s unfamiliar. Betas don’t stink, which is good, and their scent isn’t imposing like A’s and O’s scents are, but it still makes him very uncomfortable. It doesn’t matter. There isn’t anything less for him to do.

 

When he leaves the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him, Louis is stepping out of his room at the same time.

 

“Oh, hey!” he exclaims brightly, giving a little wave. “Everything alright?”

 

Harry nods and clutches the beta-scented clothes close to his chest. “Do you have a washbasin?”

 

Louis furrows his eyebrows. “A washbasin?”

 

‘To wash these clothes. The scent bothers me,” Harry explains.

 

“Ohh, like a washing machine?”

 

“Oh,” Harry deadpans. He hasn’t used a washing machine since college, and frankly, their existence has slipped my mind. “Yeah, that.”

 

“It’s in the lower level. I can show you..?” Louis offers awkwardly.

 

Harry squeezes the clothes closer to him and nods, looking away timidly. He doesn’t know why, but Louis makes him shy.

 

In the lower level of the enormous house, Louis leads Harry to the laundry room on the far side. He gently takes the clothes from Harry’s hands and tosses them in the washing machine before motioning to the array of detergents on the shelf above.

 

“We have a few different fragrances and one that’s unscented, if you prefer? Take your pick, we’re all a bit picky about our detergent. Zayn uses lavender, and Liam and Niall like orange blossom.”

 

Harry sniffs each box tentatively as Louis keeps talking.

 

“If you don’t like any of them, I can go to the store and grab one you do like…”

 

“I want this one,” Harry decides, hands on the vanilla-scented detergent at the end of the row.

 

“Good choice,” Louis smiles, eyes crinkling. “That’s my favorite too.”

 

Harry can’t help the blush that forms on his cheeks at that. He busies himself by adding detergent to the water pouring into the washing machine, and then closes the lid to the machine when he’s finished. He and Louis stand there for a hesitant moment, neither of them certain of what to do.

 

“You alright, omega?” Louis asks eventually, after a moment of observing the way Harry has his arms wrapped around his tummy because he’s afraid if he lets go he’ll fall apart.

 

Harry nods slowly and curls in on himself, on the brink of crumbling to the floor. Somehow he reminds standing, and the world keeps spinning. He tucks his chin to his chest and keeps his eyes trained on the floor.

 

“Let’s get you back to your room, yeah? The best thing for you right now is sleep. I can bring your clothes up once they’re dry.”

 

There isn’t any other option, really, so Harry heads up the stairs and Louis follows behind him, all the way down the hallway to his bedroom. When they get there, the alpha lingers in the doorway, clearly not wanting to tarnish the room with his scent. Harry appreciates it a lot, since he wants one place where everything smells familiar, and if he has strange alphas in his room that’ll never happen.

 

“I’m sorry you’re in pain,” Louis tells him sincerely, before closing the door and leaving Harry to his own thoughts.

 

The silence of the room is resounding. Harry takes the moment of peace to look out the windows.

 

The one above his bed exposes a view of the evergreen forest to the side of the house. He can see dark, soft wood and green needles on the trees, with a bed of soft, sundried pine needles covering the ground like a blanket. A black squirrel scurries up the trunk of a tall spruce tree. The woods are dark, but calming.

 

The windows on the adjacent wall overlook the dirt driveway and the garden at the front of the house. There’s even a trickling waterfall, manmade of course, at the edge of the garden. Stepping stone lead to two Adirondack chairs facing the bird bath, and behind the bath is a birdfeeder with a bluebird nibbling on seeds. The variety of colorful flowers, all yellows and purples and whites, surprises Harry. He wonders who takes care of the garden, if it’s Louis, or someone else.

 

The view from all windows is beautiful though, even if it doesn’t overlook the water. He finds himself staring out at the garden for a long time. When he gets tired of standing he decides to start planning his nest.

 

He doesn’t have many materials yet, but he plans to include Zayn’s clothes once the beta’s scent is washed out. Curiously, he opens the drawers of the dresser to search for nesting material. Most of them are empty, but the bottom drawer has a clean-smelling blanket in it.

 

Harry sniffs it and decides it doesn’t smell like anything except unscented detergent, and it’s very soft, which means it meets his criteria for nesting material. The omega rubs the blanket all over his neck, emitting his pheromones until it smells like him. Then he situates it on the bed, bunching it up so it’s comfortable to lie on. After that he scents the two pillows, he lies down because he doesn’t have any more nesting material. So he curls up with his head on one pillow and his arm around another, face pressed into the blanket, and falls asleep.

 

It’s quite depressing, really, that his heart aches even when he’s asleep.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

Later in the day, Louis drops off the freshly washed clothes, knocking on the door and leaving them on the floor outside the room. When Harry finally gets up to gather the clothes, Louis is gone.

 

He busies himself scenting half of the clothes and constructing his nest. Not all omegas are nesters, but Harry has always been one. It comforts him. There’s something soothing about making a nest, and he knows it’s the omega within him that feels reassured by the action, but it doesn’t make it any less consoling than it really is. Just because the omega part of him enjoys it doesn’t mean it’s invalid.

 

The other clothes, he folds and sets neatly in the drawers in the dresser, to wear in the future. His nest is nowhere near good enough but he doesn’t have anything else to use, so he has no choice but to settle. For now, at least. Hopefully he can build up his nest in the future.

 

Not for the first time since inhabiting the room at the end of the hall in the unfamiliar house, in the unfamiliar state of Michigan, surrounded by unfamiliar scents, Harry misses the industrial apartment on the river notorious for catching fire in the late sixties. In a way, he even misses the fear of his alpha coming home, and he misses the knowledge of what his alpha has in store for him, no matter how awful and horrifying.

 

The truth is, the omega in Harry misses his bondmate, and Harry wishes it weren’t true but it is. There’s nothing he can do about it. His bite mark is aching and so is his heart. The distance is torturous. He wants to return to his mate, as abusive and awful as he may be. He wants to go home.

 

Around dinner time Harry emerges from his room. Zayn and Liam are still absent, but Niall is back from golfing. He and Louis are sitting on the couch in front of the large TV hanging on the wall. The TV is turned off, but the speakers beside it are playing music. Christmas music.

 

“I love Michael Bublé,” Niall groans, throwing his head back on the couch. Louis laughs at him and the noise sounds like bells pealing.

 

The two of them simultaneously notice Harry’s presence. Their eyes widen in surprise, but Louis quickly recovers and beckons him forward.

 

“Come listen to holiday music with us, Harold,” he jokes, waving his arm towards Harry. Then he motions at the seat on the coach beside him. Harry approaches tentatively but still feels fearful.

 

“Does your stomach still hurt?” Louis asks softly, nodding to where Harry has his arms wrapped around his middle.

 

Harry nods slowly, eyes downcast. For some reason he cannot find his words.

 

“C’mere babe, I’ll rub your tummy.”

 

It’s a strange offer. Harry stares at Louis, completely unsure of what to do, before shifting his gaze to Niall who is still lounging comfortably on the couch and singing along to _It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas._

So he sits where Louis tells him to sit, and then Louis guides him to lie down on his lap. Harry obeys, and slowly reclines so his head is on Louis’ lap. Louis gives him a reassuring smile and then cards one hand through Harry’s hair, using the other to rub large, slow circles on Harry’s stomach.

 

It feels heavenly. It shouldn’t, but it does. And for a second, the pain goes away.

 

Harry closes his eyes, more content than he’s felt in the past day. Everything has been chaos. Everything has been horror. He doesn’t understand anything. All he knows is that it hurts like hell.

 

“How did you find me?” The question has been gnawing at him ever since the three strangers barged into the flat on the Cuyahoga River, and he hasn’t been granted an answer or an explanation. But he needs one, he does.

 

Louis slips his hand beneath the hem of Harry’s borrowed t-shirt and presses his palm flat to Harry’s tummy. Beneath his touch, Harry’s skin erupts into pleasure-induced goosebumps. The caress is so gentle. Harry is so unaccustomed to gentle. Harry knows nothing of kind.

 

“Louise Teasdale.”

 

Harry doesn’t say anything. He just keeps his eyes closed and stares at the backs of his eyelids, the dark pink in the bright natural light, flooding in through the large living-room windows.

 

“It was your sister who came to us first, months ago. But we hadn’t gotten a lead until you showed up at the art museum and Louise Teasdale saw you.”

 

His eyes fly open, widened in shock. “Gemma?”

 

“Your mum too, although it was Gemma who came to us first.”

 

“How..?”

 

“She contacted AORS two days after you went missing. We had been leading an investigation ever since, but we couldn’t find you anywhere. We thought you were in the UK. The damn bastard—your mate, I mean—had us running all over the goddamn universe just to find you. It wasn’t until he got too cocky and brought you out to your old place of work, that someone finally recognized you. Thank _god_.”

 

Harry breathes in deeply through his nose, feeling panic rise up within his chest. The Christmas music fades to the background and Harry is only vaguely aware of both Niall and Louis staring at him. “My family…”

 

“We haven’t told them yet. We haven’t told them that you’re safe.” Louis continues to rub Harry’s tummy, slightly calming him down. “You can tell them whenever you’re ready. We wanted it to be up to you.”

 

Harry’s heart stutters in his chest. Speaking to his family… his sister… his mum… for the first time in seven months.

 

He isn’t ready. He isn’t.

 

Louis further entwines his fingers in Harry’s hair and scratches lightly at his scalp. The feeling is soothing. “When you’re ready, you can do it. It doesn’t have to be now, and if you want our help just tell us. Okay?”

 

The omega nods minimally and closes his eyes again. He’s exhausted, and his stomach still hurts, and his heart is aching, and so is the bite mark on his neck.

 

“Why does it hurt so much?”

 

Louis runs his silky fingers along Harry’s skin, tracing imaginary patterns. It’s a heavenly feeling against the litany of hurt. “Your bond is weakening. It hurts because you’re separated from your mate. It’ll take a while but eventually the bite will fade, and the bond will break. Then it won’t hurt anymore.”

 

“That’s why the mark hurts, and my heart too. But why does my stomach hurt?”

 

If the furrow in his brows is anything to go by, Louis isn’t quite confident with his answer. “I’m not sure,” he mumbles, carding his fingers through Harry’s curls. “When the bond is breaking, you generally just feel like crap, so maybe that’s it. It’s probably just a normal symptom of breaking a soulbond.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“You’ll be alright, omega. I promise.”

 

Harry doesn’t respond.

 

“We’ll do what we can now to make it as painless as possible. Starting with me rubbing your tummy. Okay?”

 

Again, Harry doesn’t respond. Niall continues singing along with Michael Bublé and pretends he’s not listening in on their depressing conversation. Louis rubs the tummy of the omega in his lap, and pets his hair. As he does this he thinks of all of the pain he’s seen over the years.

 

Harry doesn’t respond, doesn’t respond, doesn’t respond. All he does is lie there and think about the pain. The pain, and his family. Particularly, he thinks about his mum, and his sister. He tries to seeing them in person for the first time in months. When he can’t imagine that, he attempts to envision himself calling his sister on the phone.

 

When even that visualization falls flat, he turns his mind off, and thinks of nothing but pine needles.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

Zayn and Liam come back to the waterfront house after dinner. By this time, Harry has already retreated back to his bedroom to curl up in his nest.

 

Except, his nest is truly a disappointment. It’s barely even a comfort—everything smells foreign and his materials are severely scarce. The nest does nothing but make him mourn for his old nest hidden away in the wall. He is desperate for a place where he feels safe. He hasn’t felt safe in ages.

 

Eventually, in a fit of panic and discomfort, he tears the nest off of the uncomfortable, unfamiliar bed and carries everything into the walk-in closet, setting it up in there. Then he turns off the light, shuts the door tightly, and sinks to the floor.

 

Down here, hidden away in the dark and quiet, the pain is more bearable. Harry curls in on himself, arms wrapped around his knees, legs pulled to his chest, chin tucked in to his neck.

 

It isn’t much, but it’s all he has.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

The next few days pass by slowly. Harry spends almost every hour of the day holed up in his room, curled up in the stifled darkness of his secret nest. He does not allow himself to be bothered, and the other four members of the household do not bother him.

 

They fall into steady harmony, creating a schedule of watching Harry, the helpless omega. Niall works part-time at the wide, unassuming field of grass they call _the airport_ , because once every year a small one-passenger plane will fly in. So Niall’s shift is in the evening, when he gets home from work. Liam takes the morning, from breakfast to lunch, and Zayn follows after. Louis has all the in-between time.

 

Chances are, at any given moment, Harry is crying. As the days pass, the pain only gets worse. His bite mark hurts more than it ever has, and the burning feeling never goes away. He obsesses over it. He lets it make him feel sick. He lets the ache incapacitate him.

 

Aside from this, not much happens. The three members of the AORS in addition to Niall all continue on with their daily routine, and only have to spend a small portion of the day making sure the hurt omega is okay.

 

However, Louis is the one who is affected the most by him, Harry can tell. It makes sense, since they spend the most time together.

 

It’s five days after they rescue Harry that Louis finally drags him outside.

 

“C’mon omega, let’s go,” Louis says, his voice nearly an order. He sounds very unimpressed as he stares at Harry who has finally opened the door after minutes of ignoring Louis’ incessant pounding.

 

Harry cowers away under his tone.

 

Louis melts, eyes turning soft and sympathetic. “Sorry love, I didn’t mean to be terse. I’m just frustrated, is all. I really want you to come outside—I think it’ll make you feel better.”

 

So Harry follows him outside and then they’re standing on the large deck, barefoot, overlooking the lake below. Evergreen trees line either side of the crickety wooden stairs that lead down to the sand, and for the first time Harry notices a secondary garden planted beside the deck. There’s a stone path that spirals to the center where a large fountain full of succulents and flowers resides. It’s beautiful, and peaceful.

 

Zayn, Liam, and Niall all join the two of them outside, wearing their swim trunks. Zayn has a sketchbook in his hands and a pair of sunglasses over his eyes. Louis grabs Harry by the hand and starts tugging him down the wooden stairs, leading him to the beach.

 

The first step of his feet into the sand is therapeutic. Liberating, even. It’s high noon and the sun is directly overhead, warming the sand beneath his soles. He digs his toes in and relishes in the feeling. A cool, summer breeze blows in off the lake and kisses his skin.

 

Down here, by the lake, all he can smell is the sand and the sea. Nothing but fresh air. It is an unbelievably pleasant change after spending days holed up in a house where everything smells like alpha, beta, or omega. Standing in front of the lake, all the confusing smells fade away. Harry feels he can breathe deeply for the first time in weeks. The first time in months.

 

Niall starts kicking around a  football on the ground and passes it to Louis. They ask if Harry wants to join them but he shakes his head. He’s never been very good at football, and right now his body is aching so much, he doesn’t think he can stand to play. Zayn peels off his shirt, tossing it to the side, and lays down on a towel, propping himself up on his elbows to sketch in his leather-bound journal.

 

“Hey Harry, wanna swim?”

 

Harry glances at Liam and then gazes out at the lake before him, vast and never-ending in his sight. The crystal clear water expands all the way out to the horizon. Down the beach on either side is wilderness and trees, with only a handful of beach houses hidden in the hills. No one else is outside, however, and for a moment Harry feels strikingly alone in the universe.

 

“Sure.”

 

The first step of his feet into the eager waves is cold, to say the least. The feeling shocks him enough to pull his feet back and retreat to the warm sand.

 

“The water doesn’t really get warm until mid July,” Liam informs him, walking forward as if the icy cold doesn’t bother him. “Because of how deep Lake Michigan is, it takes a while to heat up.” Liam also tells him the cold is the reason why there isn’t any growth in the bay—no seaweed or fish. Only pure white sand and crystal clear water. When Harry looks down during the calmness between waves he can see straight to the bottom.

 

The wade out further, goosebumps rising on Harry’s skin. Liam appears fine so he keeps quiet about it. The water remains shallow for a long distance, and it isn’t until they’re about a hundred meters from the shore than it finally reaches their hips. Liam keeps walking and Harry follows, feeling the iciness slowly crawl up his body.

 

When it gets deep enough to brush against his nipples, Harry wraps his arms around himself and shrieks, jumping out of the way when gentle waves lull past him. Liam laughs before diving down below the surface, completely submerging himself. Harry follows lead and does the same.

 

When he resurfaces, the cool breeze feels warm compared to his skin. His teeth start chattering but he’s smiling. Liam smiles back at him, and they swim out further until the sand becomes slightly rocky and neither of them can touch their feet to the bottom.

 

Everywhere Harry looks, he sees blue. Water, pure crystal, and when he looks down he can see straight to the bottom. Where he and Liam are treading water, they float six or six or seven meters above the half-sand half-rock bottom. Harry gazes back to the shore and sees the strip of white that represents the beach, and the wall of evergreen beyond it. Then, nothing but blue sky illuminated by the midday sun. Today there are no clouds, only _blue blue blue_.

 

“It’s incredible, isn’t it?”

 

Harry nods and mumbles a yes. Incredible is just the beginning, just a word to start the description. Incredible doesn’t even begin to describe it.

 

“We all love it here, so much. Thank god for Louis—he inherited this place. It’s insane. We spend every summer here if we can help it.”

 

“It’s so beautiful,” Harry agrees, wondering what it must be like to spend every summer here, on the lake. In paradise.

 

“We’ll have to show you around sometime. Northern Michigan is fucking insane. Everywhere is so beautiful. There’s a place with sand dunes four hundred meters above the water, and you can stand on top of them and look out and see nothing but lake and sky. There’re hiking trails, campgrounds, horse ranches, lighthouses, all of that. And so many people up here in the summer, too. It’s amazing, really.”

 

Harry nods thoughtfully, still treading water. His body is going numb from the cold, but it’s pleasant because it dulls the aching. “You guys’ll have to show me sometime.”

 

“We will, definitely.”

 

Harry flips around to float on his back, craning his neck back and opening his eyes so the world is upside down. He sees blue sky separated from blue water with a steady line. It’s disorienting but peaceful. The world is so large, and Harry feels his problems melting away.

 

When he turns upright again he glances back at shore and catches an eagle gliding above the trees. The bird isn’t even flapping its wings; it’s just riding the wind, soaring and swooping. A symbol of freedom.

 

Harry points it out to Liam and they watch the eagle together in quiet solidarity.

 

The coldness is seeping into Harry and making him icy, making him numb. It’s pleasant but dangerous. His teeth are chattering now, body shivering. He struggles to tread water and wonders if he should ask Liam if he can swim back to where he can stand with his feet firmly planted on the soft, wet sand at the bottom.

 

He doesn’t need to ask though. Liam looks over and notices Harry’s chattering teeth and purple lips, muttering a string of curse words and dragging Harry back towards shore.

 

It takes ages to get there, and by the time Harry is stepping out of the water, he feels exhaustion take over. He sinks to his knees on the wet sand where the icy waves lap, and he closes his eyes, feeling as though he might pass out. His omega body can’t handle the cold. It’s shutting down instead.

 

Liam hastily hooks his hands underneath Harry’s shoulder and pulls him back up into a standing position. Harry closes his eyes and lets the sleepiness rule him. He lulls his head onto Liam’s satisfyingly warm shoulder and sinks into his steady alpha touch.

 

He hears Liam talking but he doesn’t understand him. There are other voices too but all Harry comprehends is the blue lake. The white sand. The green trees. Everything colorful. Everything beautiful.

 

Another set of hands encompasses him, and Harry thinks he hears something like, “Jesus fucking Christ” followed by, “I’ve got him.” And then he’s being carried up the rickety wooden stairs by a pair of warm arms, and he’s snuggling into a warm, bare chest, and everything is okay.

 

When he opens his eyes again, Harry sees they’re at the top of the steps. Louis is washing the sand off of their feet with a garden hose. He wraps a towel around Harry and then looks into his eyes.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

Harry nods his head. Yes. Alright. Warm now. Everything is soft and fuzzy.

 

Louis sighs. “Poor baby, almost died of hypothermia. Let’s get you inside and warm you up.”

 

Harry obliges, liking the feeling of Louis wrapping a warm arm around Harry’s waist and guiding him inside through the sunroom door. They walk through the kitchen, past the living room, and all the way to the hallway where bedroom doors line either side. Louis pushes one door open and Harry realizes belatedly that it’s the bathroom.

 

“What are we doing?” His lips aren’t working very well—they must be cold. He somehow manages to get the words out anyways.

 

“Warming you up in the shower,” Louis answers patiently. He props Harry up against the granite countertop and pulls the glass door of the shower open, slipping his hand in to turn on the water.

 

Harry sighs happily, content in watching shirtless alpha Louis get the shower ready. He’s pretty with auburn hair and summery skin, all sun-kissed and tan. His eyes are pale blue like the bay outside—little pieces of Lake Michigan. He’s small and curvy but his body is strong and sturdy.

 

“Stop ogling me and get in the shower, omega,” the alpha teases, holding the door open for Harry. Harry doesn’t expect it but Louis steps inside behind him and closes the glass door.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“Getting you warm.”

 

They’re both still in their swim trunks and smelling like lake water and sand and air. Louis nudges Harry beneath the shower spray and for a while it feels as if it’s burning his skin, in contrast to the icy cold he had just experienced. He stays under anyways and lets the water wash away the coldness of the lake.

 

After a while Louis shuffles closer and wraps his arms around Harry, pulling himself close. Harry stops shivering immediately. Louis is warm. So, so warm.

 

He smells so nice too, even drenched wet in the shower. A few days ago Harry was bothered by his scent because it smelled so unfamiliar, but now that he’s gotten used to it, he likes it a lot. Maybe too much.

 

It doesn’t matter, though—Harry presses his nose to Louis’ shoulder anyway. He wants to nuzzle into his neck, but he doesn’t have the alpha’s permission, so he remains like this instead. Breathing in the earthy, agreeable fragrance of his skin.

 

It’s like sundried pine needles. It’s like warmth, love. Everything comforting and soft and amazing. Harry should be shying away, should be curling away from the strange alpha who is not his own. The strange alpha who is not the one who had bitten Harry’s neck. Harry should run away screaming because this alpha is not the alpha Harry belongs to.

 

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t run away. As much as the omega within him wants to remain faithful to his bondmate—the alpha who raped Harry, who forcibly bonded Harry—there’s a part of him that wants the comfort of an alpha, _any_ alpha. Any alpha like Louis.

 

Louis. There’s a part of Harry, an omega part, that wants Louis.

 

“Feeling better, omega?”

 

Harry nods slowly. By gaining heat back into his body, and therefore feeling too, he had expected for the pain and ache to return. But wrapped up in Louis’ arms, the pain and ache just isn’t there. It’s beautifully absent. There’s meaning there, but Harry decides not to look too far into it. His heart is damaged enough as it is.

 

So here they are. An alpha and an omega standing together in a roomy shower, sharing the warm water pouring down at just the right pressure. It smells like lake and sand and wind and arousal. Harry’s slick and Louis’ scent and just everything in general.

 

But Harry is determined to make sure nothing happens between them.

 

Louis is too, if the way he pulls himself away from Harry is anything to go by. He smiles sweetly and ruffles Harry’s wet hair, saying, “Wash yourself and then come find me. Okay?”

 

It isn’t an order by any means but Harry can feel every single atom in his body wanting to please the alpha desperately. He nods obediently and for the millionth time in the past few months wishes he wasn’t an omega.

 

Louis smiles again, looking endeared. He steps out of the shower and dries himself off with a towel. The he turns back around to give Harry one last little wave from the other side of the glass before exiting the bathroom entirely.

 

And then Harry is just left there by himself, suddenly cold with Louis’ absence. He’s horny but in pain, a strange mix of emotions. Slick is leaking out of his bum but his heart hurts and his bondmark aches. He lightly hits his head against the tile wall in frustration. Everything is confusing. Everything is awful.

 

He washes his hair and his body, and stands underneath the warm water until it turns cold. Then he’s left shivering as he towels off and stares at his reflection in the mirror. He sees heavy eyes with purple crescent moons beneath them. Pale skin despite the summer sun. Dark hair dripping with cold water. A tall, gangly, exhausted omega.

 

Back in his room, he gets dressed in a jumper and joggers and fuzzy socks. It isn’t warm enough. Nothing is ever warm enough. He shivers as he leaves his room in search of Louis.

 

Harry finds him in the kitchen, stirring a pot of something on the stove.

 

“I didn’t know alphas could cook,” Harry says without thinking, the sentence just slipping out. When it does he fights the urge to slap his hand over his mouth. He cringes instead.

 

Louis whirls around quickly and Harry expects him to be indignant and angry, but instead he’s laughing, face scrunched up and eyes crinkling. “Way to stereotype and entire gender,” he says sarcastically still laughing. “But for the record I can’t cook.”

 

Harry relaxes a little, fairly certain Louis isn’t going to yell at him or hurt him. “Then what are you doing right now?”

 

“I’m making soup for you. It’s one of the only things I can make.”

 

“Oh.” Harry sits down on a barstool at the island in the center of the room so he can watch Louis as he stirs a spoon in the pot.

 

“Why, can _you_ cook?”

 

“I’m an omega,” Harry deadpans.

 

“And what does that mean?”

 

“Yes I can cook. Omegas have to cook for their mates.”

 

Louis whirls around again and then braces himself on the countertop, grasping the edges of the granite.  He meets Harry’s eyes with a cool, steely gaze. “Maybe in the eighteen hundreds, yeah, but it’s twenty-seventeen. But I’m assuming your mate forced you to cook for him, in which case I’m sorry that happened.”

 

Harry looks down, unable to keep eye contact with the alpha when he is looking at him so intensely. Harry fidgets with his fingers and picks at one of his nails anxiously. His chest is hurting again. Everything is hurting again.

 

“You smell upset,” Louis observes idly, covering the pot with the lid. His back is turned to Harry again.

 

“Stop smelling me then.”

 

“You smell afraid, too. In pain.” He rinses the spoon off in the sink and sets it in the dishwasher.

 

Harry stands up from the barstool, making to leave. He doesn’t like being sniffed without his permission and he sure as hell doesn’t like being analyzed.

 

“Am I wrong?”

 

“Shut the fuck up,” Harry grumbles, wrapping his arms around himself. He wants to leave but the soup smells too good, and he’s starving and cold. He sits back down and curls into himself.

 

Louis places a bowl in front of him and hands him a silver spoon. “It’s hot, honey. Be careful.”

 

Harry doesn’t say anything. He just wraps his hands around the ceramic bowl and lets the heat from the soup seep into his palms, warming his bones.

 

“Why are you afraid, Harry?”

 

He shakes his head, trying to convey that he doesn’t want to talk about this. Not now and not with Louis. His attempt not to cry is futile though. The tears spill anyways, with no regard for Harry’s wants or wishes. Salty drops splash against the countertop.

 

Louis sighs, a sad sound, and sets down his soup. He rounds the countertop to stand beside Harry. “Poor omega,” he breathes, voice quiet and soft. The alpha opens his arms and beckons Harry inside. “Come here.”

 

Maybe if there was a single atom within Harry that didn’t want to comply, he would refuse Louis’ offer. But there isn’t. Every centimeter of his being wants to be held by an alpha, wants to be comforted and cared for and loved.

 

Louis holds Harry close and lifts one hand to caress the back of his head, tangling his fingers in the wet curls. His other hand slides up and down Harry’s back comfortingly. Harry presses his face into Louis’ t-shirt and inhales, smelling nothing but vanilla detergent and the pure, unadulterated sent of Louis. His fragrance is tinged with something different, something like smoldering embers, and he smells sad.

 

“Why are you sad?” Harry whispers into his shirt, hot breath clinging to the material. He sniffles and burrows further, feeling stupid and dumb and ashamed for being so weak. But everything hurts. Everything hurts. He wants the hurt to go away. He wants it to be over.

 

“I don’t want you to be in pain,” Louis tells him quietly. “Especially when you don’t need to be.” He mumbles the last part, so quiet Harry barely catches it.

 

“Wait, what?”

 

Louis squeezes him tighter. “Nothing.”

 

“No, seriously, tell me,” Harry presses, feeling panic blossom in his chest. _What is Louis not telling him?_

 

“It’s nothing, seriously H. Don’t worry about it.” Louis pulls away, and when Harry looks at him he sees his face is screwed up. He looks conflicted. “Just eat your soup and stop shivering.”

 

Reluctantly, Harry does as he’s told. The eating, at least. He isn’t in control of the shivering.

 

“I know what it feels like,” Harry voices after he’s finished with his soup, setting his spoon down in the bowl and playing with the dregs.

 

“Know what what feels like?” Louis hums, busy staring out the window at the garden.

 

“I know how to describe the pain, I mean. I know what to compare it to now.”

 

“So what is it like, then?”

 

“It’s like when he would give me orders, but it would be to do something impossible. It’s that feeling. Desperately wanting to do something, _needing_ to do something, but not being able to do it. Every part of me wanting to please him, but he had made it something impossible because he liked watching the hopelessness of his task tear me apart.”

 

Like when his alpha would order Harry to stand facing the wall, on the tips of his toes, before his alpha left for work in the morning. He would order Harry to stand there until after he returned home in the evening.

 

And Harry would try his hardest and stand there for hours, muscles straining and burning. Tears streaming down his face when his legs would give out and he would fail—he would always fail because the task was impossible. He would collapse to the floor in a pile of exhausted limbs, but the omega part of him would force him up, and he would stand again despite his fatigue. For hours.

 

When his alpha would return home, he would punish Harry because he knew he hadn’t obeyed. Harry would take it because he believed he deserved it. And that was that.

 

Not for the first time that day, Louis approaches Harry and wraps his arms around him, hugging him because there’s not much else to do. “I’m sorry Harry. I’m sorry you had to go through that. I’m sorry it feels like that now.”

 

“I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” Harry whispers, and it isn’t to himself and it isn’t to Louis. It’s to the world, the universe, the beings above who decided Harry would have this fate. “I don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t want to be alive anymore.”

 

Louis just squeezes him tighter and says nothing. There aren’t any words left to say.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

Harry doesn’t leave his nest the rest of the day, and only retreats once at night to use the bathroom. Other than that he remains curled up in the closet, wrapped up in clothes that smell like nothing but vanilla detergent and himself.

 

Everything hurts. Everything aches.

 

Harry misses his alpha but he knows he shouldn’t. There’s this unbearable dissonance with him—this recognition that the alpha he desires the most is the alpha who _hurt_ him—and it’s tearing him apart. His chest is cracking open, being split in half by the pressure and the fear and the longing. He aches, aches, aches. Nothing is good. Nothing is okay.

 

On top of it all, he feels cold. It can’t still be from his swim in the lake, but there isn’t anything else it could be from. He shivers uncontrollably even as he bundles up in clothes and blankets, sheltered by the stuffiness of the closet. Even then he feels the iciness in the marrow of his bones.

 

It’s past midnight when there’s a soft knock on Harry’s bedroom door. He ignores it in favor of burying himself further in the piles of clothes and blankets, but the sound doesn’t go away even when he covers his ears with his hands. Grudgingly he gets up to see what the problem is.

 

Of course, it’s Louis. Standing in the hallway, wearing a sleeveless top and plaid pajamas bottoms. His bare feet pad against the floor as he steps forward.

 

“All your shivering is keeping me awake.”

 

Logically, that doesn’t make any sense. Louis can’t here Harry shivering and he sure as hell can’t feel it. He probably can’t even smell it either, since their bedrooms are so far apart.

 

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles anyway, wrapping his arms around himself. He hasn’t stopped shaking.

 

“Cuddle with me, then. I can keep you warm.”

 

Harry’s bondmark is throbbing particularly powerfully at this very moment. He’s shivering, too, teeth chattering uncontrollably. There’s part of him that wants to run away screaming from the alpha who isn’t _his_ alpha, and there’s another part of him that wants nothing more than to sink into this alphas arms and soak up his warmth.

 

“I— um. Okay.”

 

Louis smiles, stepping into the room. He eyes Harry’s bed, barren and empty. The sheets have been stripped off and the mattress is void of all pillows as well. Everything is inside Harry’s nest in the closet.

 

The alpha raises his eyebrows, stepping further into the room to look around curiously, almost as if he’s searching for something.

 

“So you’re a nester, then.” The smile on his face looks fond, almost endeared. Maybe.

 

Harry shies away, embarrassed and protective. He doesn’t say anything.

 

Louis takes Harry’s smile as an answer nonetheless. “It’s in the closet, isn’t it?”

 

This, of course, makes Harry let out a quiet, half-hearted omega shriek as he backs away to stand in front of the closet protectively, where his nest is hidden beyond the oak door. _No one_ is allowed even _near_ his nest.

 

The alpha’s eyes widen and he backs away slowly, hands up in surrender. A peace offering. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to, um, upset you. I won’t go near it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

 

Harry doesn’t relax. He stays with his guard up, in front of the door just waiting for Louis to order him aside so he can ransack Harry’s nest and ruin it.

 

“I won’t tell anyone about it either,” Louis tries frantically. “Your secret’s safe with me. Um, we can go back to my room instead? My bed?”

 

The omega narrows his eyes, suspicious. “You promise you won’t tell?” The less people that know about Harry’s nest, the better. Ideally no one but Harry would know about it, but that just isn’t possible right now.

 

The alpha mimes locking his lips shut and closing away the key. Then he extends his hand, pinky out. “Pinky promise.”

 

Harry eyes Louis one last time before hooking their pinkies. He doesn’t trust Louis, but he really doesn’t have a choice at this point. He’s still shivering, anyways. “Let’s just go to your room.”

 

Louis’ bedroom is …regal, to say the least.

 

It’s the largest room in the house and it’s overlooking the water. Harry can’t see much because it’s so dark outside, but the moon is glowing and illuminating a strip of shimmery white on the shadowy lake. The trees sway, their leaves dancing, in the lake breeze. Louis has the glass door open with the screen closed, so fresh, cool air filters in and circulates around the room.

 

The bed is king-sized and cozy looking, with silk sheets and plush pillows. There’s a fireplace on the wall across from the bed, but no fire smolders tonight. Not yet at least. When they get inside the room, Louis closes the door softly behind them and then heads to the fireplace, adding a few logs and lighting them with the same lighter he uses for his cigarettes. When the fire is glowing and the cage is closed, he turns around and meets Harry’s eyes.

 

“Alright?” He asks hesitantly, rounding the bed to set his lighter on the nightstand.

 

“Mhm,” Harry mumbles, sitting down on the edge of the bed. It’s comfortable and cozy and the fire is already heating the room, despite the nighttime breeze fluttering in through the screen door.

 

There’s an en suite bathroom and Louis ventures into it, flicking on the light. From where Harry is sitting he can see the expansive countertop with a decorated sink, followed by a royal bathtub large enough to swim in. Louis fills a cup with water and then flicks the light off, bringing the cup back to hand to Harry. Harry sips it gratefully.

 

“So you’re a nesting omega,” Louis says, breaking the silence aside from the fire crackling and the breeze rustling the trees outside. “That’s cute. I always wished Niall nested, but he doesn’t. My mum was a nester.”

 

“She’s an omega?” Harry asks, mildly shocked for some reason.

 

“Mhm,” Louis says, sitting down beside Harry and staring out the screen door to the lake below, silent and dark and inky black. “She was lovely. I loved her with my life. With everything.”

 

Harry notices the past tense and isn’t sure what to do about it. So he grabs Louis’ hand and squeezes it tight. “So she’s why you understand omegas, then.”

 

And it’s true. Louis is so empathetic and considerate and it makes Harry’s insides tingle with something that feels suspiciously like _want_.

 

“Yeah,” Louis breathes, eyes still on the dark abyss outside. From here, Harry can vaguely here the sound of the waves lapping languidly against the shore. The brush of the wind against the sand is barely audible too. It’s there, though.

 

The alpha seems lost in thought, so Harry drops Louis’s hand. He sets the glass down on the nightstand and scoots back on the bed, just watching Louis. Looking at his visage in the firelight, the flicker of his eyes. He’s beautiful, in a way. (In _every_ way, Harry realizes with an ache in his chest.)

 

“Your room smells so good,” Harry whispers, because he wants to see Louis smile again, and it’s true, anyways. The room smells like Louis—his scent strong and unfiltered, undiluted. Pine needles and fire and lake water. Earthy and sweet and lovely. It’s calms Harry to no end. He wants to wrap himself up in the scent and never smell anything else again.

 

Louis does smile, turning his cheek towards Harry and grinning at him with a sideways glance and a little laugh. “Does it, now?”

 

“Mhm,” Harry agrees, playing along. “Like pine needles and _alpha_ ,” he whispers, voice low.

 

Louis rolls his eyes, sliding back on the bed and pulling the covers down to slip beneath them. He holds them up for Harry to slide in too. Harry obliges.

 

“Yeah, yeah. And you smell like flowers, little omega. Like roses.”

 

“It’s good though, right?” Harry asks worriedly. He’s always wondered if he smells okay to other A’s, and his alpha never complimented him on his scent so he isn’t really sure.

 

“Of course,” Louis says, flipping over onto his side to face Harry. “The best.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Best O I’ve ever smelled,” he concludes, voice playful. Harry knows he’s probably lying—probably smells O’s all the time, better than Harry could ever hope to smell like—but it doesn’t stop the way his heart soars in his chest at the validation.

 

They stare at each other for a while. For one fleeting moment the aching in Harry’s body subsides, and he falls slave to Louis’ gaze.

 

“You smell sleepy,” Louis tells him.

 

“So do you.”

 

“Then maybe we should sleep.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Come here.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Harry scoots closer and curls up beside Louis, smiling when Louis engulfs him in his arms. His shivering stops immediately. Louis holds him tighter, slipping one hand down to the small of Harry’s back and rubbing in slow, soft circles. It’s peaceful, calming.

 

Their biology is complimentary. Their scents mesh together with one another and together they don’t just smell like pine needles or roses—together they smell like the whole goddamn forest and meadow with evergreens and flowers and everything in between. It’s a lovely sensation, heavenly even. Their scents swirling in the air and intermixing. Harry likes the way everything smells like Louis, likes that it’s all he can smell even with the fire and the lake breeze.

 

“Does it still hurt?” Louis asks, voice whisper-quiet.

 

“Always.”

 

Louis makes a sound at the back of his throat, holding Harry to his chest. The alpha’s hands tremble. “I’m so sorry… I wish I could fix it. I wish I could help you.”

 

Harry shakes his head slowly, feeling that sinking in his stomach that he used to only get when he displeased his alpha. Now that feeling extends to Louis, apparently. “You saved me,” he murmurs.

 

“I didn’t. Not enough.”

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's part one. More to come :)
> 
> All comments are appreciated!
> 
>  
> 
> [Reblog the fic post](http://angelichl.tumblr.com/post/168380671174/somewhere-far-away-from-here-by-angelichl-seven)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The results of Harry and Louis sharing a bed for the night are interesting, to say the least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who knew I was capable of writing 6000+ words in a day?
> 
> Exciting times :)

_The sun is almost one-hundred years old. It hangs and sets like a gesso: hard._

_These are words: lonely, fur, opening. I am aware of the scent of your fingers. These are also words: apostrophe, rape, death. I can imagine you: like this: you, your in-between-the-legs open. Ankles covered by socks, bed knees drawn below your chin: exposed._

_The sun does not risk itself. It burns knowingly._

_It will be dark when you read this: it is always dark when the black-sun eats a hole to consume its breakfast. As the reader you will ask an unanswered question. You will read this sentence twice: you will read this sentence twice until you are certain you misunderstood the question. Here is the question again: ?_

_I lied: the sun is only as old as July. It reinvents itself for every new month._

 

—sterility.tumblr.com, “Diary” (2015)

 

 

 

 

 

Harry stays awake for a long time, even after Louis falls asleep. Part of his body is content just to be in any alpha’s arms and part of his body wants to run back to _his_ alpha. Another, smaller, more insignificant part of him is happy just to be in _Louis’_ arms. There’s a war between these three segments of his desires, and it’s keeping him awake. Tearing him apart.

 

Louis is warm like a furnace or a forest fire, which is what he smells like anyway. Fear and disappointment and all of the negative emotions smell like burning, smoldering pine, Harry realizes. The fragrance is meant to be unpleasant but it really isn’t, not to Harry at least. He keeps his nose pressed to Louis’ chest and inhales the embers which calm him despite the volatile, aching emotions they signify.

 

Alphas are lucky because their bodies are built strong and durable. They’re never too cold and never too hot—always in that perfect temperature range of accessible comfort. Vices like hunger and sleep-deprivation only heighten their senses and make alphas even stronger.

 

And then there’s the matter of sleeping; alphas have no trouble falling asleep and when they do fall asleep, they sleep like the dead. When they wake up they’re rejuvenated and happy and ready to take on the day.

 

Omegas, on the other hand, are most likely of all the genders to be insomniacs, and even when they sleep it’s fitful and unsatisfying. Omegas’ bodies are horrible at maintaining equilibrium. They’re the weakest of the genders which doesn’t make any sense because omegas are built for childbearing, so shouldn’t they be the strongest? The idea is that O’s can be delicate because their A’s will protect them, but what happens in a situation like Harry’s? In a situation where his bondmate wasn’t protecting him, but harming him?

 

The remembrance makes Harry shiver, a chill shooting up his spin. He trembles and presses infinitely close to the alpha embracing him. There is a constant broken record playing over and over again on loop in his mind, the string of _miss/hope/want_ followed by _hurt/pain/ache_ and _scared/scared/scared_. And then the confusion between the part of his being that misses his alpha and the other part that is irrevocably afraid of him.

 

How can this happen? How can his body want something his mind detests so much? How can the omega within him be so desperate to crawl back to the very person who abused him?

 

Harry sinks closer to the warm, steady body beside him, and lets him feel grounded by the heady scent of alpha. Not his alpha, but a kind alpha. The alpha who saved him, rescued him, pulled him away from the man who abused him.

 

In his sleep, Louis shifts forward. The movement effectively presses Harry into the mattress until there’s a warm, heavy body on top of him. It should feel frightening and entrapping but instead all Harry feels is comforted.

 

From where he is lying on top of Harry, caging him in with his body protectively, the alpha nuzzles his face into Harry’s neck and inhales deeply. He hums quietly in his sleep, satisfied at the scent of a compliant omega beneath him.

 

But when Louis’ nose brushes against Harry’s constantly aching, burning bondmark, he gasps loudly and squirms uncomfortably.

 

The feeling isn’t bad, per say. Just… strange. It is _insanely_ rude for someone other than the O’s alpha to touch an O’s bondmark, but this situation is different and Louis is asleep and Harry doesn’t know if the etiquette applies when he’s actively trying to break the bond. So he relaxes back into Louis’ touch and tries not to think about it.

 

Right. This is fine, totally fine. Louis is just being a good alpha, cuddling with a shivering omega to warm him up because he swam in an icy lake today and apparently couldn’t handle it. Louis is most definitely this kind and caring with every omega AORS rescues and that’s totally fine with Harry. Right. Not like the possessive omega within Harry is screaming its head off right now thinking of Louis sharing his bed with other omegas.

 

Right.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

Harry wakes up at dawn from a sleep that was fitful at best. He’s on his side now and there’s a warm, heavy body behind him, and for some reason the world seems righted. Sort of. Except for the sharp burning of his bondmark and the ache in his gut for his alpha, primarily. The secondary desire is _any_ alpha in general, so at least that desire is satisfied. Things could be worse.

 

The other problem is that Harry’s stomach hurts and he doesn’t know why. It feels like the cramps he gets before heats and he hopes that isn’t the case. He’s supposed to have his heat at the end of this month, but it’s only the tenth and it’s way too soon for his stomach to be hurting because of that. It’s low in his abdomen—a sharp feeling like someone had cut him open and twisted around his insides while he was asleep.

 

Harry shifts curls even further into the fetal position, hoping it will ease the cramps in his tummy. Except, when he shifts on the bed he notices the slick between his thighs, and then, subsequently, he feels the hardness to Louis’ crotch. Which is. Great.

 

Apparently there is no such thing as platonic cuddling between and alpha and an omega and of course Harry has known this all his life, but when faced with the exact situation it seems ridiculous. God, can’t he just have one thing in his life that isn’t tarnished by lust? He peels himself away from Louis despite how good it feels to be pressed up against him. His body is aching for it. Betraying him.

 

The loss of contact jostles Louis awake, and he sits up in bed sleepily, rubbing his eyes. Almost immediately he understands the situation and pulls a pillow over his crotch, grimacing apologetically. The scent of Harry’s slick and Louis’ attraction taints the air.

 

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles, feeling his face heat up in an embarrassing blush. He stands at the edge of the bed and not knowing what to do.

 

“No need to apologize,” Louis yawns. “Just biology.”

 

“Yeah, but, I have an A—“

 

“Not anymore you don’t. Not if you don’t want to, at least. You’re your own person now, okay?”

 

Harry just stands there staring at Louis, smelling like slick and confusion and pain, always pain. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, he doesn’t understand what he wants, he can’t grasp the situation. Everything is confusing. Everything is awful. There’s the duality of wanting to be owned , and wanting to be autonomous. Morally he believes everyone should be equal, but implicitly? He wants to be bonded and knotted, ordered around, made to do things just to please his alpha. He wants to belong to someone and isn’t that just one of the most messed up desires in the world?

 

Louis observes Harry for a moment longer before looking down at his hands and picking at his nails. “You belong to no one but yourself, Harry.”

 

Harry doesn’t necessarily agree with that. As an omega, he belongs to his mate—he belongs to his alpha. And then on a larger level he belongs to alphas as a whole, because they have the ability to order him around and make him do things even if he doesn’t want to. The subservience is just part of his nature. And then on a macro scale he belongs to society because he follows all the stupid rules. He wears high necks or scarves in public, he walks two steps behind alphas, he tucks his chin to his neck and plays coy because that’s what he’s told to do. He keeps quiet and obedient. He is ruled by culture and customs and norms. He is ruled by his role in the world.

 

_You belong to no one but yourself_ is the biggest lie in the universe but Harry wishes desperately that he could believe it to be true. The cold hard truth is that it isn’t, though.  It isn’t true.

 

Harry nods anyways, agreeing. Always agreeing. Whenever an alpha or a beta says something he has to agree. It’s just who he is. Part of his nature, his biology, his DNA. To agree and be complacent and never question authority.

 

It’s sad and stupid and pathetic and he just can’t help it. Harry stands at the edge of the bed and waits for Louis to tell him what to do next because Harry’s very own omega biology restricts him from thinking for himself when he’s in the presence of an alpha.

 

“I need to shower. You should too,” Louis suggests, his skin illuminated in the pale morning light. “You can use my shower—it’s so much nicer than the other one.”

 

The shower Harry has been using for the past few days is already nights, but Harry is quite curious to see Louis’ shower if Louis thinks it’s better than the other. He’s itching to clean himself off and get back to smelling like himself again. But his mouth betrays him.

 

“You shower first.”

 

The alpha gives Harry an odd look but does it anyways, climbing out of bed and heading to the en suite. He closes the door behind him, sending Harry into relative peace.

 

Harry collapses forward on the bed, groaning. The pain is still there because it never really goes away, but now it feels like someone is stabbing him in the stomach with a steak knife and it makes him dizzy. He curls up in the sheets that smell like Louis and wills the throbbing to go away. It doesn’t.

 

He manages to sleep a little bit while Louis is in the shower, but the entire time he is conscious of the alpha on the other side of the door, naked and showering. The neediness of his omega is compounded and he feels hot and desperate. He cries into the sheets and stays wrapped up with his arms locked tightly around his tummy. He feels so weak and helpless.

 

When the water shuts off and Louis steps out of the bathroom, steam billowing behind him, he’s wearing only a towel around his waist. This doesn’t help matters in the least.

 

Louis looks bewildered at Harry’s tears, and his crumpled up form on the bed.

 

“You alright, omega?”

 

“Yeah, yeah- I’m fine,” Harry cries, sniffling and hastily wiping away the tears from his eyes. However, it’s quite futile because new ones keep falling in their place. “It’s just- my stomach.”

 

The alpha’s face falls. He looks distraught. “We might have to take you to the doctor.” Sitting down beside Harry on the bed, he asks quietly, “Can I see?”

 

Carefully, the omega flips over so he’s lying on his stomach and staring up at the alpha above him, eyes wide and full of shining, glistening tears. He grabs the hem of his jumper and slowly tugs it up to his ribcage, exposing the soft, pale skin of his middle.

 

Louis’ eyes scan Harry’s skin and when he finds nothing out of the ordinary he raises his hand gently. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

 

Harry nods, sniffling.

 

The first touch of Louis’ fingers to Harry’s skin is feather-light. He starts near Harry’s ribcage and quietly smoothes his palm to Harry’s skin, running along his body to see if anything is wrong. His hand travels lower and rubs against Harry’s tummy, passing his bellybutton and focusing on the area between his hip bones which jut out sharply, softened by the slight pudge of his middle.

 

“Hmm,” he murmurs, running his palm back and forth. Harry wonders what he can tell just from touching his stomach like this. “When you say your stomach hurts, you mean here, right?”

 

“Yeah…”

 

“Are you on heat suppressants?”

 

Harry chews on his lip, feeling sick. “No.”

 

Louis looks up, surprised. Harry doesn’t understand why Louis would have expected him to be on suppressants since he hasn’t had access to a doctor in more than seven months.

 

“What about birth control?”

 

“Yes,” Harry gasps, squeezing his eyes shut when a wave of pain hits him. “My last shot was in August.”

 

“You’ll need one soon, then.” Louis sighs, pulling his hand away. “I’ll make an appointment. For now, just make sure you’re eating and drinking enough, okay? And sleeping enough too.”

 

The omega nods, missing the feel of Louis’ palm on his tummy.

 

“Now go shower. I’ll make you breakfast.”

 

Harry does as he’s told, getting up after Louis leaves the bedroom, and heading into the en suite. The water is already warmed up from when Louis used it earlier, so he strips quickly and steps inside. It’s one of those high tech showers with a million different buttons that change the temperature and water pressure. Too tired to explore, Harry presses them until it feels comfortable and then lets his hand drop, not bothering with it anymore. He stands beneath the shower spray and lets his tears mix with the water until the two become indistinguishable.

 

He dries off with the towel Louis left out for him, and when he reenters the alpha’s bedroom he’s hit by the deep scent of Louis. He realizes it doesn’t bother him anymore and in fact he likes it. He also realizes he probably smells a lot like Louis right now, from spending the night in the alpha’s room, in his bed, in his arms… It isn’t something a shower can fix, so he prepares himself for the awkward but inevitable conversation when the others get a whiff of him.

 

Harry knows last night was a onetime thing, and he won’t be swimming in the freezing lake anymore so he won’t need Louis to warm him up. This recognition makes Harry’s needy omega heart ache, and before he knows it he’s picking Louis’ worn t-shirt off the floor and clutching it to his chest. It’s the needy omega within him that influences Harry to bring the shirt back to his own bedroom as he returns to get dressed.

 

He stows the shirt away in his secret nest, savoring one last inhale of evergreens and fire and sea before closing the closet door and slipping on a pair of leggings and a different jumper. After that he exits his bedroom and pads down the hallway to the kitchen, bare feet against the wooden floor. He pauses in the entryway and watches hesitantly as Louis is at the sink, washing dishes and staring out the window at the garden.

 

His back is to Harry when he says, “Christ, I can smell you smelling like me from here.”

 

“S- sorry, I tried to—“

 

“No worries, omega. It’s not a bad thing. Just. What will the _neighbors_ think?” Louis faux-gasps, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth in feigned modesty. Then he starts laughing and it makes Harry laugh a little too. He flicks his fringe out of his eyes and points to a serving platter with the lid of a pot covering it to keep the contents warm. “I made pancakes but they didn’t turn out so great. You might just wanna have cereal instead or something.”  


Curiously, Harry lifts the lid and finds himself staring something that looks decidedly _not_ like pancakes.

 

“Um…”

 

“Hey, I followed the instructions,” Louis defends, eyes filled with mirth.

 

“Maybe I can try?”

 

“Be my guest. I’d love to have pancakes that are actually edible.”

 

Harry gets to work combining ingredients in a large mixing bowl. Louis continues with the dishes and when he’s finished he stands back and watches Harry work. Sunlight is streaming in from the window above the sink, making Louis look angelic in the golden glow.

 

“My alpha hated my pancakes,” Harry comments offhandedly, not thinking much of it. The memory just spills out, and he recollects it with a weak laugh. “I only made them once, and he actually threw me into the wall because of it. I hit my head on the corner of the stove and there was blood everywhere,” he laughs despite the fact that it really isn’t funny. “He threw the plate on the floor and made me clean up everything.”

 

Louis is staring at him with his eyes wide and furious.

 

“Everywhere I would clean I kept dripping blood so I would have to go back to clean it again.” Harry stirs the mixture with a little extra force, some flour flying out of the bowl. “I remember actually apologizing to him for getting blood all over his things…”

 

Louis’ hands are curled into fists and his smell becomes heightened, stronger. He smells like a bonfire, everything blazing and burning, a furious kind of smell. Harry watches as his jaw clenches and he grits his teeth together, clearly trying to remain controlled.

 

“What a complete, utter _asswipe_.”

 

Harry nods slowly, biting his lip, and finding himself agreeing with Louis’ words. He laughs a little more, but again it’s humorless. His alpha _is_ horrible.

 

“ _Damn it_ , I knew I should’ve killed him,” Louis says casually, staring at Harry again like the omega is something he wants to _protect_.

 

A noise crawls up the back of Harry’s throat—a squeak of indignation. He hates his mate, even knows he’s the Devil, but he doesn’t want him dead. If Harry’s mate dies, the excruciating pain Harry feels right now due to the distance between them will only be exemplified infinitely, and there’s a chance he won’t be able to survive.

 

The alpha rolls his eyes at Harry’s show of devotion, but doesn’t press the situation any further. “It goes against AORS’ code of conduct, anyway. No murder unless it’s warranted. Although, I feel like it was pretty warranted. He got lucky.”

 

This sparks an interest in Harry. In fact, it makes him kind of nervous. “Have you ever killed anyone before?” He asks quietly, pouring batter onto the skillet.

 

“Yes,” the alpha responds clearly.

 

Harry’s eye brows raise. “Oh?”

 

“Mhm. I make no exceptions for people who rape children.” He mimes a gun with his fingers and points it at the fridge, pulling the imaginary trigger. “ _Bang_.”

 

The omega stares at Louis for a while, not turning back to his pancakes until they’re seconds away from being ready to flip. He chews on his lip and thinks that if he was in Louis’ position he would do the exact same thing.

 

“It’s what we do,” Louis sighs. “Saving people, I mean. Not killing. But sometimes that’s part of it.”

 

“What about their mates, though?” Harry asks, thinking of all of the omegas in history who have died because their alphas—their bondmates—were killed by war or disease or anything, really.

 

“You’re not going to die, Harry. Even if he kicks it, I’m not going to let you die.”

 

“But—“

 

“Seriously honey, don’t worry about it. Give it a little bit more time and the bond will break, and then you’ll be free and it won’t hurt ever again. Just give it time.”

 

He’s leaning against the counter again, arms braced on the granite. He looks so confident and calm. So certain, so sure of everything. It’s comforting in the most primal way _. There is an alpha here who is strong and assured and he will take care of you,_ Harry’s mind croons with glee.

 

“Alright?” Louis presses.

 

“I guess.”

 

The alpha grins. “Perfect. Now, _pancakes_.”

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

When the other three enter the living room later that morning, where Harry is curled up in the arm chair and Louis is sprawled across the couch, the immediately start laughing.

 

The noise startles Harry from his catnap, and he opens his eyes, blinking sleeping. Louis is scrolling on his phone and he doesn’t even look up when he thumps Liam on the back of the head.

 

“We didn’t have sex, you perverts.”

 

“Suuuuure,” Niall laughs, knocking Louis’ feet off the L-shaped cream-colored couch so he can sit down too, flicking the TV station from football to golf.

 

“Oi, shut up.” Niall gets a whack too.

 

Harry doesn’t say anything but he can feel their eyes on him. Especially Zayn, observing him curiously. Harry understands; really, A’s and O’s rarely _ever_ sleep together if they aren’t mated and they aren’t having sex. Harry wonders if there is a single example in the entire world of a situation where an unmated alpha and an unmated omega remained platonic friends even after spending the night curled up together. Really, he can’t think of one. His cheeks heat up even more and he turns away to stare out the window at the setting sun. The sky is ablaze with reds and oranges and pinks, melting into the purple lake.

 

“So what did you guys get up to last night, then?” Liam asks, and Niall has to cover his mouth with his palm to stop from laughing obnoxiously. Even Zayn looks amused, smirking slightly.

 

“You lost the right to know the minute you assumed Harry and I did anything last night,” Louis responds, voice dry, sounding very bored.

 

“What else were we supposed to assume, then? You guys smell like each other.”

 

“That literally doesn’t mean anything, though. Niall smells like you guys all the time, that doesn’t mean you’re—“ Louis slams his mouth shut so quick Harry is afraid he might break his teeth.

 

The room falls silent. Harry’s eyes widen. Louis sits up quickly on the coach and spins around, looking between Niall and the bonded couple.

 

There’s a moment’s pause. And then—

 

“Oh shit. Oh shit!” Louis jumps up and squeezes Niall in a crushing hug. “Why didn’t you tell me?! I’m so happy for you guys! How long has this been a thing? How long have you been keeping it a _secret_ from me?”

 

“Umm, a few weeks,” Niall responds, looking meek.

 

“Fucking finally!” Louis screams, before running over to give Liam and Zayn hugs too. “This is awesome. All my friends are in loooovvvvvve,” he sings.

 

Niall looks embarrassed, Zayn looks unaffected, and Liam looks proud. The perfect omega, beta, and alpha responses. Now that Harry thinks about it, it makes a lot of sense. The three of them have been sharing looks over the dinner table ever since Harry got here.

 

Harry wonders if Zayn feels afraid he’ll be left out. The dynamic between alpha and omega is strong and overbearing… it must be difficult to deal with during heats and ruts. Harry can’t imagine having to share the person he loves with someone else. Maybe he’s just an overly-possessive omega, but it seems like quite the challenge. Even though polyamarous relationships aren’t for him, though, he knows they work perfectly for others, and he has a feeling that’ll be the case for Niall, Zayn, and Liam.

 

“Wow, okay,” Louis says. “This is life-changing stuff. Aaaaaaand apparently I will be fourth-wheeling until the end of time, which I had never considered a problem until now. Fun.”

 

“You have Harry,” Zayn points out, eyes flickering over to meet Harry’s. Zayn sends him a catlike smirk that only the omega can see. Harry scowls at him, knowing Zayn can tell that Harry may or may not have acquired a teeny tiny crush on Louis over the night. It doesn’t assuage the ache in his chest or dull it by any means, but when he thinks about Louis he feels a flutter in his stomach that makes him lose his breath.

 

“That is true,” Louis muses softly. He glances at Harry for a moment and then turns his eyes back to the rest of them. “God, I can’t believe you guys.” He stands up from his seat, where he’s effectively separating Niall and the other two. “Go cuddle like I know you want to,” he orders, making a shooing motion with his hand and getting out of the way.

 

Niall smiles and joins Liam and Zayn, spreading himself out over their legs and wrapping his arms around Zayn’s neck, burrowing into his neck. Liam pulls Zayn closer and rests his head on Zayn’s shoulder, his hands falling to Niall’s legs. Harry and Louis coo and _awww_ at the sight.

 

And then the cuddling turns to kissing and things get a little bit shady.

 

“Oh god,” Louis breathes, standing up from the couch and pulling Harry out of the chair by the fireplace. “Let’s get out of here,” he whispers, tugging Harry away. Over his shoulder he bellows, “you have TWO hours and THAT’S IT.”

 

Louis pulls him through the sunroom door by his hand and all the way outside to the deck, both of them laughing all the way. They shut the screen door behind them and then they’re standing out, barefoot on the wood, overlooking the sun setting over the lake. Everything is beautiful. Everything is perfect.

 

“God, that was unexpected,” Louis remarks, pulling Harry further towards the lake and down the stairs. “Although, I’m not really surprised, you know?”

 

“Same,” Harry agrees. “It’s lovely. I love love.”

 

“Me too,” Louis smiles. “I didn’t ask, but are you okay with going for a beach walk?”

 

“Of course,” Harry smiles. The feel of the cool sand under his feet is amazing. They walk closer to the water and dip their toes in, Harry pleasantly surprised by the way the water has been warmed up by the sun. It feels warm on his toes.

 

The sun is dipping in to the horizon now, shedding golden light onto the lake and scintillating colors everywhere. And then Harry looks over at Louis and sees him illuminated by the red glow of the sun and the pinkness of the sky and he just looks so beautiful that Harry has to look away for fear of melting into a puddle of goo.

 

They walk down the beach, on the pure white sand, looking out at the beautiful lake and the calm waves. To the right are the dunes and the reeds, pretty green beach glass that’s soft to the touch but the edges bite like thin paper cuts. The left is the lake in all its majesty. The walk on the soft sand in silence, listening to the wind and the waves. Soaking in the beauty of it all.

 

“Does it still hurt?” Louis asks, after more than a mile of walking. They’ve crossed pockets of rocks and areas where the beach has washed away so they needed to wade in the water and sections where driftwood littered the path, and then the segments of sand upon pure sand and nothing else. They’re standing at the point now, where a peninsula of sand juts out.

 

Together they tip toe to the very edge and there’s the feeling of being surrounded by water and everything is amazing, everything is beautiful.

 

“It does,” he says, voice almost overtaken by the wind. But Louis hears him. The _always_ goes unsaid. “But it feels easier by the lake, maybe. Outside, the fresh air, all of that.” The _with you_ also goes unsaid.

 

Louis smiles at him and grabs his hands, standing so they’re facing each other with the waves kissing their feet.

 

“Look at me,” he urges, squeezing Harry’s hands tight. Harry lifts his chin and meets Louis’ eyes which are bright in the glowing light. “Do you feel better?”

 

“It feels worse,” Harry says honestly. “Every day it feels worse.”

 

“Do you feel strong though? Do you think you can get through it?”

 

“I don’t know. I don’t know how I’m going to get through my um, my heat…” Harry looks away in embarrassment, feeling ashamed and stupid and weak. “There’s a reason why O’s _never_ miss a heat with their mate, and it’ll be the first one and I don’t know if I can do it, especially after not being with him for so long, and my stomach already hurts so much, and—“

 

“It’ll be okay, Harry. I promise you can do this. Spending your heat without him will only make the bond break faster.”

 

“But—“

 

“Don’t worry about it, omega, please, I don’t want you to worry,” Louis gushes, rushing forward and encompassing Harry in his arms. His tone is a bit frantic and Harry thinks that maybe it hurts Louis to see Harry so in pain. “It’ll be okay. I’m taking you to an omega doctor this week and he’ll help you. He can give you pain meds and other things to help. I promise it’ll be okay. I promise.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Do you believe me?” The alpha asks, resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder.

 

“I don’t know…”

 

“We’ll take care of you, Harry. I’ll take care of you.”

 

Harry thinks that maybe Louis is an alpha with a savior complex. One of those A’s who thinks he’s going to save the world and kick ass while doing it. But as far as Harry can tell, that’s exactly what Louis is doing—stepping up to protect those who need it. Rescuing O’s from abusive relationships. Killing pedophiles and saving children. Doing what everyone else is afraid to do.

 

And here is Louis. Here is Louis breaking in to an apartment to rescue an omega. Here is Louis driving miles to bring him somewhere safe. Here is Louis offering his house and his bed and his arms. Here is Louis, holding Harry close and telling him everything will be okay.

 

And here is Harry. Harry who is weak and in pain and exhausted. There are crescent moons under his tired eyes. His hands tremble. His stomach hurts. His heart aches. He needs an alpha with him just to feel some semblance of okay.

 

He starts crying. How many times will he cry in his lifetime? And then the bigger question, the one that hurts as much as the loss hurts: How many others have felt this way before? How many others feel this way right now, and how many will feel this way in the future?

 

The answer is too many. Too many, always. As long as there are alphas and betas and omegas, there will be this mess, this pain, this tragedy.

 

“We’re gonna do fun shit all summer so you don’t think about it as much, and then by the time autumn comes around your mark will be gone and everything will be perfect. Zayn is working on getting that absolute piece of garbage prosecuted for kidnapping and sexual abuse. You’ll be able to live again, okay?”

 

And then the realization that Harry’s alpha ruined his life and he will never be the same again. There’s pre-rape Harry and post-rape Harry and labeling like that so blatantly makes him feel sick to his stomach. Rape. He was raped.

 

They walk back as the sun sets, hand in hand this time. The touch makes Harry’s skin tingle.

 

Back at the house, the two of them are hesitant to go inside. “Maybe we should sleep outside tonight?”

 

“Uhh, yeah,” Harry laughs, thinking Louis is joking.

 

“No, seriously, we can sleep on the beach. I’ve done it before… it’s nice,” Louis says, rocking back and forth on his feet. “Plus, if there’s ever a night to sleep outside, I would say it’s tonight.”

 

“True,” Harry agrees.

 

“How about this—I go inside and grab the duvet, sleeping bags, and some snacks, and you get changed into warmer clothes. I know it’s summer but the nights get chilly here, you know?”

 

When Louis pulls open the door to the sunroom, he screams at the top of his lungs that they’re entering and they _better not fucking hear anything they don’t want to hear_. Then they split off in different directions, running the entire way.

 

Harry pulls on a fuzzy socks, leggings, joggers over the leggings, and a hoodie. He debates bringing an extra blanket from his nest but chooses against it, deciding that his nest is sacred and he wants to keep it that way.

 

When they reconvene outside again Liam is laughing, holding a million things in his arms. He has blankets and sleeping bags and a duvet, and on top of it all a box a graham crackers and a bag of marshmallows teeter. There must be Hershey’s chocolate in there somewhere, Harry surmises.

 

He takes some of the things from Louis’ arms and then they head down to the beach again, all the while Louis chattering away about all the times he’s slept on the beach.

 

“The stars are incredible, Harry, just wait until it gets dark out. The sky is my favorite thing about Michigan. Up North, here, we’re practically in the middle of nowhere and there’s no light pollution from cities or anything. And you can just… see everything. It’s so beautiful.”

 

They set the things down and Louis gets busy building a fire in the fire pit, its perimeter composed of rocks from the lake. Harry sets up the blankets and pillows and then sits down next to Louis as he lights the wood with his cigarette lighter.

 

Louis turns to him and smiles, glancing at Harry who is sitting there watching him.

 

“You’re really cute, you know that?”

 

Harry can’t help it, he blushes. Luckily the sun has set enough that it shouldn’t be too noticeable, but it still makes him embarrassed.

 

Louis sighs wistfully, obviously joking. “And even cuter when you blush.”

 

They eat s’mores by the bonfire and share stories. Louis talks about his friends and his family and his job at AORS, and Harry gives little stories about his time with his alpha, and then before that too. It feels nice to talk to Louis, to tell him about the darkness that has been consuming him for seven entire months. And then when he recollects the person he was before that day in the parking garage, he feels closer to that past version of himself.

 

Harry admits that he’s afraid to call his family. In fact, he’s been putting it off ever since he was rescued. He knows he has the ability to contact them, but for some reason the thought alone makes him feel sick. What will they think of them? What will they think of him when they see who he has become?

 

When the sky is dark and the fire is smoldering, Louis presses his palm to Harry’s shoulder and pushes him back to fall against the pile of blankets that smell like summer.

 

“Look up,” he encourages, lying down next to him, so close their arms are brushing.

 

And he does look up, from the beautiful length of Louis’ eyelashes to the stars above. And god, it’s beautiful.

 

“Wow.”

 

“I know,” Louis whispers. “I know.”

 

They lie there for a long time in perfect silence, listening to the melody of the wind and the waves. The longer Harry stares at the sky, with billions of stars above, the more stars he sees. Then he wonders if there’s something else out there. Anything else. Harry isn’t vain enough to think humans are alone in the universe, but he also finds it unsettling that he may be looking at an alien galaxy right now.

 

Yet, the promise of other life is comforting. If the universe is as expansive as they say it is—if it really does go on forever—then there must be a place where everything is soft, everything is beautiful, everything is perfect.

 

Harry doesn’t realize he’s shivering until he Louis pulls him close.

 

“Thanks,” Harry mutters, when Louis pulls the duvet over the both of them and snuggles closer.

 

“You’re freezing.”

 

“I’m warmer with you.”

 

Louis slips his soft palms beneath Harry’s hoodie and places them flat on the lower part of his tummy, right where the pain is originating. Harry’s omega body reacts the way it does when it comes into contact with an omega, opening up and blossoming like a flower to the sun. He relaxes and sighs happily, feeling a deep comfort in his bones.

 

“I’m afraid to talk to my family.”

 

“Why?”

 

“They’ll see how different I am.”

 

“It doesn’t matter. They’ll love you just the same.”

 

“I’m afraid of going to the doctor, too.”

 

“Why, omega?”

 

“I’m afraid he’ll tell me something’s horribly wrong with me.”

 

“Don’t worry about it baby, don’t worry about it. He’ll help you. I will too. If something’s broken we’ll get it fixed.”

 

“I’m afraid of having my heat again.”

 

“When is it?”

 

“The end of June.”

 

“We’ve got time, honey. The doctor will tell you what to do.”

 

“What if he tells me I won’t make it? What if he tells me it’ll hurt so bad my body won’t be able to take it?”

 

“Then I’ll help you through it. You’re not going to die. Not after I’ve saved you.”

 

Harry sighs, finally settled. “Okay. Thank you.”

 

“Of course, baby. Go to sleep.”

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments motivate me to write faster ;)
> 
> Seriously though come talk to me <3
> 
> [Help a sis out and reblog the fic post](http://angelichl.tumblr.com/post/168380671174/somewhere-far-away-from-here-by-angelichl-seven)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst.

Lately, I’ve been waiting for my  
                                                body  
to feel like a  
                        body

ra-  
ther than  
a cathedral  
o  f   g  r  i  e  f

 

Tell me about the river  
before it was a river.

Tell me about how the river  
when it was nothing more  
than your mother’s tears.

We all keep our   
sadness cupped  
safe in our hands

 

what would we be without it? / don’t ask those questions anymore

 

we’re sitting around the moonlight  
telling stories about what home looked like  
before the flood. what home looked like  
before the water took its place.

 

            and you’re grabbing  
my hand  
            that doesn’t know it’s a hand.  
my hand  
            that’s far too empty.

 

_— Emily Palermo, “Origins”_

__

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

They’re on the lake when Harry first asks.

 

Well, technically _Harry_ is on the lake and Louis is _in_ it. The omega is curled up on a raft, brushing his fingertips through the icy water and soaking up the sun—nothing but blue sky above them. Louis is in the water which reaches his shoulders, and he swims to and fro and floats on his back but doesn’t stray very far from Harry’s makeshift island.

 

Harry has a lot of questions for the alpha. He means to only ask one, but a mouthful of them tumble out at once:

 

“How many O’s have you saved? Are they only omegas or can they be B’s too? Are you working on rescuing someone right now? Do you always bring them here?”

 

Louis doesn’t respond at first. He just swims up close to Harry’s raft, hooking his hands on the edge of it so they float together, and leans in so his face is right near Harry’s.

 

“Lots of questions, hm?” He teases, lifting a dripping hand and pressing it to the space between Harry’s shoulder blades.

 

The omega flinches and barely contains a shriek at the sensation of Louis’ cold, wet hand on his bare skin.

 

“I’m just curious,” Harry mumbles meekly. He bats Louis’ wet hand away when he tries to touch him again.

 

“We usually rescue one person each month, but sometimes more and sometimes less. You’re our June omega,” he says, laughing at Harry’s dismayed reaction. His voice is still teasing but the notion doesn’t sit well with Harry.

 

“Kidding, kidding,” Louis amends, still laughing. “Well, not about how many O’s we rescue. But after we get an O safe, we start the next investigation and it typically takes a month to get plans solidified before we actually get them out of there. So like, we spent all of May trying to find you, and then deciding how to rescue you once we knew where you were.”

 

Louis tells him that Harry was difficult to find, because his A must have had connections with someone who was apt in security, since Harry’s entire existence had essentially been wiped from all databases. So they had to do everything old-school, literally going around Cleveland interviewing people who knew Harry and might’ve known what happened to him. They had already been in contact with Louise Teasdale by the time she saw him at the art museum. She had called Liam immediately and told him all about finally seeing Harry and the imposing alpha who was controlling him.

 

“It isn’t always O’s,” Louis says, swimming with his elbows pressed onto the raft. He’s kicking his legs beneath the water and taking them further away from shore, out toward the horizon. The water is nearly fifteen feet deep here but they can still see straight down to the bottom, where the languid waves leave little ripples in the smooth white sand.

 

“We’ve had a few betas—usually smaller ones who aren’t able to fight back. Not that it’s easy to fight against a feral alpha, but since alpha commands don’t work on betas, it’s easier for B’s to get away.” Louis exhales heavily, pressing his hand against Harry’s hip. This time Harry doesn’t squirm. “I hate that you didn’t have a chance,” he sighs.

 

Harry doesn’t say anything. He just keeps his eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his bare skin and the feeling of Louis’ fingers curled around his hipbone. It’s been a few days since they fell asleep on the beach, curled up together beneath the blankets, soaking up the warmth of the fire. Everything hurts more, and the pain in Harry’s stomach is so strong it’s nearly unbearable. But when Louis touches him like this, it dulls ever so slightly.

 

“I hate that you were so alone,” Louis continues, “and we couldn’t get to you sooner. All the bruises and scratches and shit. I hate that he did that to you, that he had that kind of power over you.”

 

When Harry opens his eyes, he’s met with Louis’ face very close to his, his blue eyes dark and steely. Angry.

 

Harry knows the anger isn’t directed at him, but it still makes his blood run cold, a chill crawling up his spine, a chill the sun can’t even touch. Instinctually, the core of his being is afraid of an alpha’s anger, and when he sees Louis like this his heart rate speeds up and his palms get sweaty and his mouth gets dry, and everything hurts worse.

 

Louis can definitely smell the fear on Harry, so his face softens and he looks apologetic in the way that he parts his lips and sighs, dropping his hand from Harry’s hip finally. He clutches the raft again and kicks them out further to shore, making the swim back even longer. Harry should feel trapped and afraid, stuck a hundred meters from the beach with nowhere to go, now way to get away, but instead he just feels calm.

 

“Sorry,” Louis soothes, finally stopping his swimming and just letting them drift. “Just, the thought of someone hurting you makes me livid.”

 

“I don’t want you to be angry,” Harry whispers, loud enough for Louis to hear.

 

“I know honey, I’m sorry.”

 

“Are you working on rescuing someone right now?” Harry repeats, a feeble but effective way of distracting Louis from his irritation.

 

“No, actually. Well, sort of. Liam is going through the list deciding who we should try for next.”

 

“You have a list?”

 

Louis nods slowly, looking thoughtful. “We try to prioritize it by the direness of the situation. Which, seems ridiculous. It is, but we can’t rescue everyone, no matter how hard we try. It’s just impossible. I hate it but it’s true. The AORS sends us an updated list each month and we go from there. The other groups like us do the same thing and hopefully with all of us working we’ll get almost everyone. But there are so many we don’t get, so many who don’t even make the list…”

 

Harry has known this all his life, the omegas who aren’t so lucky. The omegas like him who are attacked and bitten and mated. The omegas who have no escape. In all of history there must be so many. So many omegas who die at the hands of alphas, just because A’s apparently can’t contain themselves from _raping_ someone. It’s horrible, awful. Sick. It makes his heart hurt more than anything.

 

“You’re the only O we’ve had here in a while, by the way,” Louis tells him, voice soft again. This time he’s trying to distract Harry from the previous topic of conversation. “The last rescued O we brought up here was Niall, two years ago, so. We’re only up here for the summers, but honestly we don’t normally do this. You’re special. And you’re welcome to stay as long as you like, okay? We like you too much. _I_ like you too much.”

 

Harry shouldn’t feel so content at hearing these words, but he does and he really can’t help it. The possessive part of himself—the omega part—cheers with victory and contentment. He is so afraid that by the end of the month they’ll just kick him out and move on and Harry will be alone again, albeit free, but wholly _alone_.

 

When Harry whispers _thank you_ , Louis smiles.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

The next day, Louis takes Harry to the omega doctor, and things are interesting, to say the least.

 

“You can bring you mate with you, if you’d like,” the beta nurse tells Harry when she calls him in from the waiting room, obviously mistaking Louis for Harry’s mate.

 

Harry stands up hesitantly and looks back at Louis, bewildered. Louis looks just as taken aback as Harry feels, which is nice since they’re on the same page, but it doesn’t exactly help the situation. Harry is about to leave without Louis and then he gets two steps away from the alpha and realizes how nervous he is and how much Louis calms him down, so he pulls Louis up by the wrist and tugs on his hand until they’re both following the nurse back to an examination room.

 

The nurse hands Harry a paper gown and tells him to change into it and then sit on the examination table to wait. She gestures to a chair against the wall for Louis and then closes the door behind her as she leaves.

 

The room is drowned in a slightly uncomfortable, slightly nervous silence. Harry quietly pulls off his clothes, stripping down to his underwear, before pulling the crinkly blue gown on. The entire time Louis shifts his gaze to the floor politely and waits until Harry is finished changing before he speaks.

 

“Don’t be nervous,” Louis says, relaxing back into the chair. “He’s just going to help you, okay?”

 

Harry nods obediently and sits up on the table, swinging his legs back and forth and trying not to be nervous. It doesn’t work, of course, he can’t help the feeling of anxiety swelling in his chest. Louis scoots his chair closer and reaches out to grab Harry’s hand, squeezing tightly to comfort him, calm him down.

 

When the doctor comes in, he introduces himself as Dr. Clark. He’s small but serious, very O-like but clearly not letting his gender get in the way of his career, no matter how difficult it may be. Harry admires him. It’s very rare for O’s to go to graduate school, much less medical school, and thus it’s rare to have an omega doctor. Resultantly, when O’s go to the doctor they’re usually talking to a beta who will never be able to fully understand the O’s situation. Having an omega doctor is a large, exhaustive relief.

 

Dr. Clark asks if Louis is Harry’s mate, and Louis doesn’t say anything so Harry politely tells the doctor no, just that he wanted someone with him because he was nervous. The doctor nods at that, like this is a normal situation and he gets it all the time. Harry knows it’s not that rare, but it’s also really not common for an unbonded O and an unbonded A to be so close that the O brings the A to his doctor’s appointment, but…

 

“So tell me why you’re here,” Dr. Clark says, clicking the touch-screen of his laptop with a stylus. Harry hasn’t even said anything yet but he’s already typing something, fingers tapping against the keys quickly.

 

Harry gives him an abbreviated story, saying that a stranger caught him when he was close to heat and mated him without his consent. He cups his hand over the bondmark on his neck as he explains that they were bonded, but now that Harry’s been away from him for a week and a half and he’s trying to break the bond, everything hurts.

 

The doctor nod and doesn’t comment on the abduction or the rape. Harry is glad. He keeps his eyes trained on his laptop and starts telling Harry some of the things Louis has already informed him.

 

“So, breaking a bond as an omega is painful but not undoable. Bond-breaking is becoming increasingly common, and hundreds of O’s go through it every day, so you’re not alone. In the meantime I can prescribe you with pain meds to make it a little more bearable.”

 

Harry nods slowly, his free hand playing with the edge of the paper gown. Louis is still holding on tightly to his other hand, running the soft pad of his thumb against the back of it soothingly.

 

“Now, there are two ways to break a bond. The first is to wait it out, which is what you’re doing right now. If you just let time handle it, it’ll take anywhere from three to four months before the mark fades and you feel generally back to normal, the way you felt before you were bonded.”

 

Four months means that Harry will be liberated from the pain by September. The time frame seems so short yet so long at the same time, and at the mention of four months of extended pain, Harry’s stomach curls with a flash of panic. Louis shifts their hands so their wrists are brushing together, right where Harry’s scent gland is. There’s a mix of emotions within him as the panic calms down and he feels the touchy but calming sensation of an alpha rubbing his skin against his wrist.

 

“The second way is to bond with another alpha. As soon as the new bitemark heals and the bond fully forms, the original bond will be fully broken. It only takes a few days, a week at most, and it’s pretty much painless—this makes sense because the reason bond-breaking hurts is because you’re away from your mate. It’s the omega part of you that wants to be close to your alpha, always. When you’re torn away, it hurts. But if you can replace that bond with another one, your omega is satisfied and it won’t hurt anymore.”

 

Harry’s fidgeting stills and his breathing stops. Fuck. He hadn’t known it was an option to bond again, Louis never told him—

There’s a sharp squeeze to Harry’s palm, followed by an order. “Harry. Relax.”

 

Harry does as he’s told, sinking down again and letting his shoulders curl inward. He hadn’t realized how tense he was, how his fingernails had been digging into Louis’ skin where he clutched him tightly, panic swelling and overtaking his entire being. He glances over at Louis shyly to see the alpha staring back at him with his big, bright blue eyes, wide with concern.

 

“I didn’t know that was an option,” Harry admits, sinking further into his seat on the table.

 

“It is,” the doctor clarifies, looking up from his laptop to observe Harry. His eyes flit to Louis and then back to the omega sitting nervously on the table. “I’d say about fifty percent of omegas trying to break a bond do it by bonding again, and the other half go through it alone. It’s up to personal preference, really. If you’ve already found someone you want to bond with, then it’s a viable option.”

 

“Oh,” Harry whispers, feeling dizzy and confused.

 

“Just something to think about, then. Like I said, half of bonded O’s choose to do it themselves. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s what works best for you.” The doctor drums his fingernails on the edge of his laptop before setting it aside. “Now, I have written here that you told the nurse your stomach has been hurting, and you’re worried about it.”

 

“Yes,” Harry confirms, feeling about two seconds away from passing out with the new information. Why didn’t Louis _tell_ him?

 

“Can you describe to me what it feels like, and where?”

 

Harry points low on his stomach, from hipbone to hipbone. “It feels like knife. Twisting around my insides.”

 

“Does it always hurt like that? Or does it come in waves?”

 

“Sometimes it gets duller, but for the most part yeah, it hurts all the time.”

 

“Okay. I’m going to ask a few more questions and then we’ll do a few tests just to make sure everything is alright, and if it’s not we’ll find a way to fix it. Okay?”

 

Harry nods.

 

“Good. So you were bonded when?”

 

“About seven months ago.”

 

“And how many heats have you had since then?”

 

“Three, including the one that started the night I was bonded.”

 

“So you weren’t on suppressants.”

 

“I was, it was just my second heat of the year when I was- attacked. But then obviously I didn’t have access to suppressants so I went into heat more frequently.”

 

“And you’re not on suppressants now?”

 

“No,” Harry answers, feeling dazed and weak.

 

“Part of why we’re here is to get suppressants re-prescribed,” Louis adds.

 

“We can do that,” the doctor nods. “Though they won’t affect your next heat, I’m sure you know. Which is, when exactly?”

 

“The end of this month.”

 

The doctor’s cool demeanor shifts slightly, and for a moment his brows furrow. He turns towards Louis and asks, “Did you know about this?”

 

Louis nods, eyes dark. They share a silent conversation that Harry can’t help but feel left out of.

 

When Dr. Clark speaks again, his voice is slightly accusatory. “And you didn’t come to me sooner.”

 

“It wouldn’t have helped. And it’s only been a week and a half,” Louis defends.

 

Harry has no idea what’s going on. When the doctor turns back to him, he looks slightly concerned and very serious.

 

“So a week and a half until your heat, then. Do you know anything about an O going into heat without his mate?”

 

“Not much. Just that it’s really painful.”

 

“Right. Well, it’s one of the most painful things an O can experience—only second to their mate dying. It is the _only_ reason why an O breaking a bond is dangerous.”

 

“Dangerous?”

 

“I hadn’t mentioned it before because I was under the impression you were still on suppressants. But when you’re actively trying to break a bond, going through heat alone intensifies and expands up the pain you’re feeling right now. It’s dangerous because the vast majority of omegas are not capable of dealing with this pain. It incapacitates them—kills them, even. The mortality rate is about thirty percent, which is. Quite high.”

 

Harry gasps, feeling the world spin in and out of focus. “ _What?_ ”

 

The doctor wheels his chair around so he’s completely facing Harry now. “You have a few options for your heat, then. It’s up to you to decide what you want to do. It is _always_ your choice.”

 

He feels sick, like he might throw up, or faint, or maybe even both. He tries to drop Louis’ hand but Louis doesn’t let him, and for a moment he feels trapped and panicked and _afraid_.

 

“The first is to go through it alone, like you were planning, I’m assuming. It’ll be very, very painful, but you have a seventy-percent chance of surviving. The odds are on your side but the risk is big. Especially without suppressants, your heat will last anywhere from five to ten days. The pain will linger, and the mortality rate is doubled for the second heat you experience before the bond breaks. You’ll be on suppressants by then but there’s a chance you’ll go through heat again before your bondmark fades. If you choose to go through with it alone, I highly recommend you’re admitted to a hospital. You’ll be given morphine and monitored closely, but the risk remains.”

 

Harry’s head is spinning, and the pain in his stomach increases exponentially. He’s dizzy, dazed, and barely lucid. Nothing makes sense. His heat will begin in less than two weeks, and it might _kill_ him.

 

As an omega, Harry knows a lot about betrayal between body and mind. Most of his life as an omega has been spent in dissonance. The contradiction between his omega desires, and what the rest of his being wants, is apparently quite keen on tearing him apart and ruining his life. There was dissonance the night Harry was attacked—his body betraying him, being easy for the alpha. _Wanting_ him, even. The way he fell to the ground so easily that night, at the apartment on the river, after he had been bitten. When he presented him to the alpha, so desperate to be knotted, just because his heat had started and he couldn’t control himself no matter how much he hadn’t wanted to even be touched by the alpha.

 

But this. This would be the ultimate betrayal. _Dying_ during heat because his body couldn’t take it, the pain and the want and the flaming _desire_. _Dying_ because his stupid fucking omega body couldn’t exist without the horrid alpha who had forced himself on Harry all those months ago.

 

Harry is shaking. Hands trembling even as Louis grips one of them tightly in his own.

 

“The second option is to bond, obviously. The original bond breaks, you go through heat with your new alpha, and there’s no risk of mortality. It’s over and done quickly and painlessly.”

 

“And the last option?” Harry asks, mouth dry with panic. When he glances over at Louis he sees him staring decidedly at the floor, looking guilty. It is then that Harry realizes that Louis has known this all along. Of course he had known, all of this, everything. He had just decided not to tell Harry. He had somehow decided it was better to keep this from him. And Harry had, quite stupidly, trusted him.

 

“You go through heat unbonded but not alone. Someone else helps you through it. Whoever it is has to be an alpha, but doesn’t have to be your original bondmate. The mortality rate is less than two percent in this situation, since it’s less painful than spending heat alone, and it’s over slightly more quickly. And at the chance of you not being able to handle the pain, and being near death, the alpha can save you by bonding you.”

 

Everything is out of focus. He doesn’t look at Louis again.

 

Dr. Clark runs through the three options again, telling Harry he refuses to endorse going through it alone, and obviously he suggests bonding but understands that in a lot of cases that’s not possible.

 

“As long as you spend your heat with an alpha, you’ll be okay, alright?”

 

Harry nods in understanding, not much of it sinking in yet. Dr. Clark moves on, continuing his questioning before moving on to the actual examination. He prods at Harry’s stomach much like Louis had just days ago, and then they carry out a few tests, including Harry peeing in a cup and also lying inside a rotating cylinder that scans his body. Harry has no trouble lying perfectly still.

 

An hour later, the three of them are sitting in the original examination room again. Dr. Clark says there shouldn’t be anything to worry about—nothing is life-threatening. They’ll get the results to him within the next day and go from there.

 

The doctor leaves and closes the door behind him. Harry gets dressed in silence, determined not to even look at Louis, let alone talk to him. They make it all the way out to the car without a single wored shared between them. Until:

 

“Harry…”

 

Harry doesn’t say anything. He curls up in the passenger’s seat, closes his eyes, and pretends to fall asleep. Louis doesn’t disturb him.

 

They drive home in silence.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

As soon as they’re back the beach house hidden in the pine trees, Harry trudges up the stairs and into the house, heading right to his room and not greeting anyone as he passes them.

 

He locks the door behind him, stripping out of his clothes and leaving them on the floor in the middle of the room, which is something he never does. With tears in his eyes, he licks at his wrists until they’re clean and no longer taste or smell like Louis.

 

Louis, the traitor. Right.

 

Finally, he closes himself in the closet and sinks down to his nest, soaking in all the comfort he can receive from the soft pillows and blankets and clothes that smell like nothing except himself.

 

All except for one. The t-shirt he stole from Louis’ room a few nights ago. He pulls it to his nose and breathes in the very familiar scent of pine needles, and it is then when he completely breaks down into nothing but choked sobs, full of agony and fear.

 

He falls asleep with Louis’ t-shirt pressed between his thighs.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Reblog the fic post on tumblr :)](http://angelichl.tumblr.com/post/168380671174/somewhere-far-away-from-here-by-angelichl-seven)
> 
> I'm open to suggestions, so if you have any ideas of where you'd like the story to go, or if there's anything you want to see, tell me! Comments make me happy and motivate me to write faster ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry receives bad news.

_Trauma and nostalgia are sisters and they kiss each other on the teeth._

_— elexctra.tumblr.com_

 

 

“Harry, please,” Niall cries, exasperated. “ _Please_ unlock the door.”

 

“No,” Harry repeats petulantly, wrapping himself even tighter in the bundle of blankets until all he can feel is warmth and artificial comfort.

 

“Harryyyyyyyy,” Niall warns. There’s a long sliding noise and then a soft thud—presumably Niall’s back sliding down the door before sitting down on the ground. “Please, mate, we’re worried about you. _I’m_ worried about you.”

 

“Go away.”

 

“ _Harry_. Either you open the door right now or I’m going to get Liam over here to order you to do it,” Niall threatens, and it’s a low blow really, a manipulative move. Harry would be livid if Niall wasn’t an omega, but since there’s a sense of solidarity between them he decides to just grumble about it but do it.

 

Finally he stands up and leaves the safety of comfort of his nest in the closet, slowly crossing the room. When he unlocks the door, Niall jumps up and attacks him with a tight, bone-crushing hug.

 

“Everything’s going to be okay,” Niall assures him, rocking him back and forth slightly.

 

The notion makes Harry’s eyes fill with tears. He hasn’t cried about the situation since yesterday, when he bolted out of Louis’ car and immediately went to his nest, but now the sadness and aching pain is returning with a vengeance, all at the trigger of Niall’s kind platitude.

 

So when Harry really starts crying, Niall just holds him tighter and rocks him back and forth, telling him it’ll be okay.

 

The thing is, Harry is pretty sure it isn’t going to be okay.

 

He has no idea what the fuck he’s doing. Absolutely no fucking clue. His heat is in less than two weeks and apparently there’s a high chance of him dying if and when he spends it alone. And Louis wasn’t even going to _tell_ him. Fuck. _Why?_

 

There’s an itchy, crawling feeling beneath Harry’s skin and it’s telling him to go back to Ohio and find his alpha. His alpha, his real alpha, the one he’s bonded to.

 

Obviously he doesn’t really want to do this, but the needy, obsessive omega part of him—the part that’s currently in excruciating pain—just can’t seem to fathom why Harry doesn’t want to return to the flat by the river, the flat that smells like nothing but Harry’s imposing alpha.

 

Niall is saying something but Harry isn’t really listening. He zones back in when Niall says something that sounds a lot like, “you really need to talk to Louis,” and that’s when he tenses up, going stiff as a board.

 

“No. I’m not talking to him.”

 

“Harry,” Niall warns, pulling away. He’s frowning very heavily. “You have to talk to him.”

 

Suddenly a thought strikes Harry, so hard the shock is almost tangible.

 

“No, I have to leave. I have to get out of here.”

 

“What? No- You’re not leaving, you can’t-“

 

“What, you’re going to keep me here? Force me to stay here, just like the fucking alpha who forced me to do the same?”

 

Niall drops his hands, letting go of Harry completely, Harry’s words obviously sinking in. Just the notion that Niall and the rest of them may be anything like Harry’s alpha making him stop short.

 

“Where would you even go, then, huh? Not to be rude, Harry, but you don’t have anywhere.”

 

Harry folds his arms over his stomach which is twisting painfully, and grits his teeth. “Leave me alone. _Get the fuck out of here_.”

 

Niall rolls his eyes, done being kind. His annoyance is clear. “Whatever. Zayn and Liam aren’t here right now, and I’m leaving in a few. Do whatever the fuck you want. I was just trying to help.”

 

And then he stomps away. When Harry’s bedroom door slams shut, the irony isn’t lost on Harry, since Niall had been trying to coax Harry into opening the door for nearly an hour.

 

Fuck.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

Harry doesn’t leave the bedroom until six in the evening, when he starts getting really hungry.

 

Because of his sadness and his pain, the all-around agony of the situation, he hasn’t been feeling too hungry lately, but after not eating for more than twenty-four hours, it kind of hits him all at once. So he tiptoes out of the bedroom and tries to make it to the kitchen without being caught.

 

The house is empty, so Niall, Liam, and Zayn must still be gone. That only leaves Louis. Harry shuffles quietly past Louis’ closed bedroom door and desperately hopes he isn’t heard.

 

Except. When he gets to his destination, Louis is there, sitting at the kitchen island.

 

Immediately, Harry turns around, ready to bolt, but in his haste he stubs his toe against the refrigerator. The pain shoots up his leg but mostly he feels numb. It’s the noise that’s the problem, because Louis looks up and notices him there.

 

“Are you alright?” Louis asks worriedly, already standing up and rushing to where Harry is hunkered over, on the verge of tears.

 

“Fuck!” Harry groans frustratedly, less about his toe and more about the overarching situation in general. He feels Louis’ hand on his upper back, pressed against his shoulder blades, rubbing comfortingly, and it makes him want to burst into flames.

 

“Let’s go sit down, okay?” Louis suggests, nudging Harry out of the kitchen. He guides him over to the living room couch and sits him down, propping his legs up onto the cushions. Harry gives up and curls up into a ball, burying his face in his hands.

 

 _I’m hurt. I’m in pain. Please help me._ “I’m hungry,” he says instead, because it’s easier and because it’s true.

 

“I’ll make you something, just wait right here. Please.”

 

So Harry lifts his chin to rest it on his knees and stares out the window, at the deck and the trees and the lake below. Louis returns in a few minutes, thrusting a plate in Harry’s hands. On it is a grilled cheese sandwich cut into triangles. Then Louis plops down on the cushion beside Harry.

 

“Thanks,” Harry says, quiet.

 

“Eat and then we’ll talk.”

 

He doesn’t want to talk. He eats anyway, even with Louis eyes on him.

 

“I’m sorry for not telling you,” Louis says when Harry is finished. He takes the plate out of his hands and sets it on the glass table beside the book with pictures of various types of sea glass. “I just- didn’t know how.”

 

“Something like ‘hey Harry, your heat is going to kill you if you don’t get a knot up your arse’ would’ve sufficed,” Harry seethes, snappishly.

 

Louis blushes. Honest-to-god blushes. Harry hadn’t even known alphas were _capable_ of blushing. Embarrassment was an omega thing, like obedience and shame. There are just some things that alphas don’t do, don’t feel, and this is one of them. Except. Louis’ cheeks are slightly pink and he looks uncomfortable. It’s cuter than it should be.

 

“Well, now you know, so. Anything you want me to be, I’ll be. It’s your decision.”

 

“What if my decision involves an alpha that isn’t you?” Harry tries. It’s juvenile and petulant but he can’t help himself.

 

“It’s your decision,” Louis repeats, but Harry would be blind not to see the way his eyes flicker and his jaw clenches.

 

“I want to be bonded,” Harry announces. It’s a lie, but there’s an inexplicable part of him that just wants to get a rise out of Louis.

 

“Who, then? You just gonna go wander around outside until some random A comes over and knots you?” Louis scoffs.

 

“Maybe,” Harry retaliates, chin up in defiance. He isn’t looking at Louis but in his peripheral vision he catches him rolling his eyes.

 

Louis stands up to leave the room. When he’s nearly to the hallway he turns around, voice laced with condescension, “You can do whatever the fuck you want, little omega.”

 

Harry very decidedly doesn’t watch Louis leave. He just turns his head towards the floor-to-ceiling windows and looks out at the lake, his vision blurry with tears.

 

What he really wants is to be Louis’ omega, but that’s a scary truth, so he avoids admitting it to himself in favor of crying over a future he has no control over.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

Two hours later, Harry is back in his room when the door opens and someone barges in without knocking. Harry must’ve forgotten to lock the door. Luckily, he’s not in his nest, but sitting on the mattress looking out the window at the black squirrels running up and down the tree trunks.

 

Louis thrusts his phone in Harry’s hand, not saying anything before he turns around and leaves the room quickly.

 

The screen is dark but when he lifts it closer to his face the movement lights it up and Harry can see that it’s in the middle of a call. Assuming he’s meant to answer it, he brings it to his ear and asks, “Hello?”

 

“Harry Styles?”

 

“Speaking.”

 

The lady on the other line introduces herself as a nurse from the doctor’s office. She says his results are ready and asks if he’s in a good place to hear the news. He says yes because he has no reason to say no, and then the nurse is telling him something and the entire world comes crashing down.

 

Harry finds himself on the wood floor once the call has ended, arms around his knees rocking back and forth. Anything for any sort of artificial comfort. And it just. Feels like his entire world is breaking.

 

He doesn’t realizing he’s crying his stupid hopeless omega cry until Louis comes rushing into the room, eyes wild, asking desperately, “What’s wrong?” and “Are you hurt?”

 

 _Hurt?_ Yes, everything hurts. Everything fucking hurts. His stomach and the rest of his body and his mind too, his heart. His hopes. His future.

 

Louis is getting no response except for a hysteric omega rocking back and forth, so he drops to the floor beside him and pulls the O into his arms, trying to use his scent and his touch to calm Harry down. It doesn’t work. He just keeps crying and crying and crying, screaming like he did the morning he first woke up in this unfamiliar place, except now it’s worse. He isn’t crying because he’s afraid, now. He’s crying because of something very bad. Something that is breaking him.

 

“Harry, I don’t know what to do—tell me how to help you,” Louis groans, resituating the howling omega on his lap.

 

Harry doesn’t say anything, just keeps crying crying crying. He swears he’s never cried this much before in his life, yet ever since that night in the parking garage he’s been doing it a lot more frequently… Almost as if being raped has something to do with it.

 

No matter. His abduction is at the bottom of his list of conflicts right now. In fact, there’s one thing at the very top that eclipses everything.

 

So… When is an omega not an omega anymore? And what makes an omega, anyway? Their ability to reproduce?

 

That’s all they’re made for anyway. Getting fucked, getting pregnant. Giving it birth. Doing it all over again until their mate is satisfied. Their bodies are incompetent at every single thing—sleep, exercise, heat regulation, _everything_ —except carrying babies. That’s what omegas are supposed to be good for. If there’s one thing in the world they do better than any other gender, it’s accepting a knot and getting pregnant. _Perpetuating humanity._

 

So what happens when the one thing Harry is supposed to be good at—the one thing he should do above all else—becomes impossible?

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

It’s takes a long time for Louis to coax Harry into telling him what’s wrong. Hours, even.

 

Night has already fallen, and everyone has already returned to the house but they all steer clear of Harry’s bedroom because they know something is wrong. Harry’s bum is numb from sitting on Louis’ lap all these hours, and he knows Louis is probably uncomfortable too, but he really just. Can’t bring himself to care enough to do anything about it.

 

“Please tell me what’s wrong, omega,” Louis whispers into his hair, after his sobs have fully dissolved into exhausted whimpers and sniffles.

 

The knife is still twisting in Harry’s stomach, but now that he knows what it is, it hurts even more. His stupid, traitorous body, harming itself. Destroying itself from the inside out.

 

“I want to go to my nest,” Harry whispers, arms wrapped tightly around Louis’ neck. His face is pressed to the fabric of Louis’ jumper, and everything is warm and soft. Yet it hurts. It hurts, all of it. His life is full of pain.

 

“Please Harry, tell me what’s wrong first— _please_.”

 

The omega somehow finds the strength to detach himself from Louis and crawl across the hardwood floor towards the closet. Just beyond the door is his nest.

 

Harry abruptly stops moving and sits back on his heels, staring at the closed door of the closet.

 

_His nest._

 

Here is the truth: Harry can build a million nests in his lifetime. He can have sex every day with anyone he wants, and. And. And his nest will never be used for what it’s really meant for—keeping a family safe. Somewhere warm and comfortable and familiar and protected for pups. Babies. Kids.

 

Here is the truth, and he speaks it out loud so Louis can hear and understand:

 

His voice breaks like the waves crashing on the beach below. The words twist the pain deeper into his stomach, just like the knife.

 

“I’m infertile.”

 

Louis lifts Harry off the ground and wraps him up tightly in his arms, kissing his forehead. He doesn’t say anything. He just stands there holding the omega and waits until he’s close to out of tears before he opens the closet door and allows Harry to go inside.

 

He sinks to the ground and immediately burrows beneath the pillows and blankets and clothes until he’s covered by a heavy weight of items.

 

Louis kneels down beside him, wrapping his fingers around Harry’s bare ankle. The touch is comforting in a stupid way. Louis is careful not to mess up anything inside Harry’s nest—Harry can tell because the alpha stays far enough away so that his scent doesn’t mix with the omega’s.

 

“It’s going to be okay, Harry,” Louis says, repeating what everyone always tells him.

 

And as always Harry doesn’t think it’s going to be okay. Everything just keeps getting worse.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Fic post](http://angelichl.tumblr.com/post/168615034854/angelichl-somewhere-far-away-from-here-by)


	5. Chapter 5

He was the kind of man  
who saw closed legs and thought,  
_wishbone_. Private damage; some  
kind of train wreck, some  
kind of blood spatter  
pattern I’d study if only  
I knew his name. Ten shrinks  
couldn’t stop me from burning  
down his door. See,  
I’ve got a bone to pick  
with the skeleton in our  
forcibly shared closet. See,  
there’s a child-sized coffin—  
small enough for one  
to carry—and I think  
the wrong person’s spine  
has been cracking matchstick  
underneath its weight  
for so many years too long.

_— Adira Bennett, “Wishbone”_

 

 

Harry stays in his nest for three days, not leaving except to use the bathroom.

 

The boys bring him food and water and offer words of encouragement, but Louis is the only one who knows why Harry is so devastated. The others do not know that Harry’s stomach hurts because something wrong happened in his body causing him to be infertile. They do not know because Harry asked Louis not to tell them, and Louis promised he wouldn’t.

 

“Come sleep in my room tonight,” Louis pleads one evening, as the sun sets. They’re approaching the longest day of the year, and Up North the sun hangs in the sky until near ten o’clock before it finally sinks below the horizon, engulfing the world in darkness.

 

Harry is curled up in the corner, sleep-dazed and exhausted somehow, even though all he’s been doing for the past three days is napping.

 

“Please, Harry.”

 

It isn’t a command but it way as well be, because the way Louis says it, all desperate and upset, influences Harry to agree. Despite still being mad at Louis for essentially lying to him, keeping something from him. Despite everything.

 

So he finds himself, a few minutes later, standing in Louis en suite with Louis there with him. The alpha is leaning over the bathtub as it fills up, dragging his fingers through it to test the temperature. He’s added something to it to make it bubbly and nice-smelling, and usually, as a scenter, Harry is very touchy about fragrances, but this smells so nice, so he decides to make an exception.

 

Louis turns the faucet off and then the room is engulfed in oppressive silence.

 

“Will you let me wash you?” He asks, leaning back from the large tub.

 

Harry hesitates a long while before stepping forward. He knows he shouldn’t trust Louis anymore, after Louis essentially lied to him by not telling him the truth about his heat. But… it isn’t exactly Louis’ responsibility to inform him of that, right? And still, Louis wasn’t trying to be malicious. In fact, he was trying to protect Harry. It was just the shock of the new information that had made Harry so conflicted and terrified.

 

“Alright.” He carefully steps out of his clothes and tries not to let Louis’ unbridled gaze upon him make him nervous. Once he’s finished Louis offers his hand and helps him into the tub. Harry sinks down slowly until the bubbles reach his shoulders.

 

The omega soaks for a while before Louis starts washing him, cupping his hands and pouring handfuls of water on his hair before massaging shampoo into the dripping curls. The feeling of his palms on Harry’s back, fingers brushing along his skin, is euphoric. Louis treats him so carefully, so tenderly, that the soft touches are nearly aching in their gentleness.

 

It becomes clear that Louis is trying to earn back Harry’s trust, showing him by caring for him. Yet even though he knows what Louis is doing, he allows it to continue, sinking into his gentle touch. Harry might be easy in his forgiveness, but he doesn’t care. He knows Louis is genuine.

 

Their dynamic meshes perfectly because it’s in Louis nature to take care of people, and it’s in Harry’s nature to be cared for. He feels so protected and safe and loved, and while the feeling dulls the constant aching in his tummy, it spurs on a new kind of pain in his chest—the pain of _want_.

 

They don’t speak. The room is quiet save for the open windows which let in sounds from outside, like the evening waves kissing the shoreline, the breeze fluttering the leaves on the trees, and the nighttime crickets singing.

 

When Harry steps out of the bathtub and onto the tile floor, Louis’ hand on his waist to catch him if he slips, Harry is clean and naked and dripping wet. His skin, pale and glistening, is dried off with a fluffy sand-colored towel. The alpha leaves the room briefly and returns with a neat pile of comfy clothes for Harry to sleep in. Louis dresses him carefully and then leads him back to the bedroom, to the bed itself.

 

The screen door is open. Harry sits on the edge of the bed, wearing joggers and one of Louis’ tank tops, and inhales the cold fresh air.

 

Louis urges Harry to lie down with him beneath the covers, so he does, crawling back and letting Louis situate him. The alpha climbs beneath the blankets and arranges himself half on top of Harry, covering his body so he’s warm and protected. The lamplight on the bedside table is flicked off, and then the only light illuminating the room is from the stars and the moon.

 

“Please don’t find another alpha,” Louis whispers.

 

“No alpha will want me,” Harry whispers back, thinking again of the barrenness within his body, his inability to have kids even though that’s the one purpose of his entire life.

 

“That’s bullshit, Harry.”

 

“It’s true.”

 

Louis attaches his lips to Harry’s jaw and starts mouthing at it, leaving soft little kisses from his ear to his chin and only narrowly avoiding Harry’s mouth. Then he drops lower, crawling down his throat, to the side of his neck. Kissing long and slow, over the fading bondmark, even. Harry shivers at the sensitivity but doesn’t stop him.

 

The _I want you_ goes unsaid.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

With Harry’s heat fast approaching, only a week away, Louis seems dead-set on doing a million ‘fun’ things before then to make up for the lost time they’ll experience in a few days.

 

After they wake up together the next day, Louis steals a few more articles of Louis’ clothing, tucking them safely away in his nest, before they eat breakfast. Louis will probably notice the clothes are gone, but at this point Harry really doesn’t care that much anyways.

 

They eat breakfast in the sunroom, and then Louis tells him to change into his swim trunks, before dragging him outside and down to the beach.

 

They walk all the way to the point and back, and by then it’s nearly eleven in the morning. Louis drags a lime green kayak into the water, tosses an orange life jacket at Harry, and tells him to sit on the back. They go like that for a while, until they’re far out at sea and the water is nearly forty feet deep, yet they can still see straight down to the bottom. Louis paddles while Harry sits on the back, his toes dipping into the sun-warmed surface of the crystalline water.

 

They don’t talk much because Louis is exerting himself, but at one point Louis stops paddling and they just glide across the water for a while until they slow to a gentle drift. Louis says, with steadfast determination and confidence, “Your worth isn’t determined by your fertility. Okay?”

 

Harry doesn’t agree. As an omega he’s supposed to reproduce. It’s just his job. His purpose. His charge.

 

“You don’t believe me,” Louis says.

 

“I don’t.”

 

Louis twists his back to look Harry in the eyes. He presses a cold, wet hand to the inside of Harry’s thigh, Harry’s legs spread with the kayak between them, for emphasis.

 

“Harry. The amount of kids you have doesn’t matter.”

 

“It does when the amount is zero.”

 

“You’re so fucking wrong it’s not even funny,” Louis growls, picking up the oars again and paddling furiously toward the horizon, effectively ending the conversation.

 

After kayaking, they lay out on the beach in the sun for a while, drying off, before heading up the wooden stairs and inside for lunch. Louis makes them sandwiches even though Harry protests and offers to make them himself. They eat at the table on the deck outside, the warm sun tanning their skin. After that, Louis tells him to shower and get dressed because they’re going _out_.

 

Out, as it happens, is a town called Charlevoix. It’s by the water, as most things are Up North, and it’s an adorable town, really, and busy too. Harry’s wearing a strange outfit made of mismatched clothes from the combined closets of the members of AORS he’s sharing a house with, fit with Liam’s basketball shoes and Louis’ jean shorts and Niall’s striped shirt. Louis laughs at him and says they’ll go shopping today for some new clothes for Harry.

 

They have drinks at a corner bar and eat fries with vinegar and ketchup before walking down the pleasantly crowded streets beneath the bright sun. There aren’t too many shops with men’s clothing, but Louis manages to find one that is actually quite good, so they spend a long time in the dressing room practically buying Harry an entire new wardrobe.

 

It’s very clear Louis is trying his hardest to distract Harry from his sadness, and the omega really appreciates it. It works, sort of… Except when he sees the PDA alpha/omega couples, or worse, mates with children. A year ago these two things would excite Harry and make him eager for his future. But now that he knows his future will hold neither of these things, the sight only makes his heart ache.

 

When Louis notices what Harry is staring at, he tugs Harry away and tries to distract him with something stupid. Again it doesn’t exactly work, but Harry pretends it does for Louis’ sake.

 

Louis bus Harry ice cream (in fact he has bought Harry everything today, since Harry has no money) and then they walk down the docks to sit on the bench at the end and overlook the small marina where boats enter and exit languidly. The entire time they walk down the dock, Louis keeps his ice-cream-less hand on the small of Harry’s back, all protective like he’s afraid Harry is going to trip over his own feet and tumble into the water. Which, Harry has to admit, is quite plausible.

 

“Do you feel at least a little better?” Louis asks once they’re sitting on the bench overlooking the water.

 

“Yeah,” Harry lies, avoiding Louis’ eyes in favor of observing his half-melted black-raspberry ice cream.

 

There’s still that knife twisting in his gut, worse now that he knows what it really is. A constant reminder of his true worthlessness.

 

They stop at the pharmacy on the way home to pick up Harry’s pain medication. Something weak to take daily, something stronger for the time during his heat.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

The next day, the five of them go horseback riding.

 

It’s Liam’s idea. He claims to know a family who owns a ranch, so they drive down South a bit, past sylvan land until they get to the fields and rolling hills. There isn’t much out there until they reach a rickety wooden sign that declares the dirt road an entry to the stables.

 

While Liam parks, a group of women approach the car. Most are small and meek and omega-like. Fragile-looking.

 

They greet the group with enthusiasm and lead the boys to an enclosure with many horses saddled up and loosely tied to posts. Most of them are standing still and patient except for a large black horse that’s stomping its hooves lightly and pulling at its rope.

 

One of the O women steps up to their group and observes the five of them for a long while. Eventually, her eyes settle on Harry.

 

“You look like a tough one. You’ll have Rebel.”

 

“Huh?” Harry asks, and before he knows it he’s being led over to the scary black horse, and helped onto the saddle. He does as he’s told, putting most of his weight on his own feet which are in the stirrups.

 

As it turns out, the horse is named Rebel because he really doesn’t like to follow instructions. On their trail in the woods, Rebel refuses to stay on the path, and instead wanders through the woods in favor of eating the ferns. In the beginning Harry tries to stop him, but eventually he gives up and just laughs, swatting horse flies out of Rebel’s face.

 

It’s the most fun he’s had in a long time.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

That night, a few telltale signs of Harry’s fast-approaching heat begin.

 

The first is that his scent changes slightly, and everyone notices. Louis especially. On the way home he keeps staring at Harry with wide, worried eyes. Niall just looks at him all sympathetic, and Zayn and Liam politely pretend to ignore it.

 

The second sign is that he begins to get really shaky. His hands start to tremble more than usual, to the point where Louis clasps both of Harry’s in his own and squeezes them tight.

 

The third thing is that everything begins to hurt even more. His stomach, mainly, low and deep in his core. Now the knowledge that his heat is futile, because no matter what he does he will never get pregnant, makes his heart ache more than usual. But his head hurts too with his typical headache and fever before and during heat.

 

Lastly is the arousal, very distinctive in its omnipotence. Every part of his body is insanely sensitive, but especially his neck, wrists, and inner thighs. He feels the arousal within every atom of his composition. He feels dizzy with it.

 

So when they return to the house and Louis asks if he’s okay, Harry says he’s just going to go to his room (read: his nest) and try to sleep it off. Louis follows him anyways.

 

“We need to talk about your heat.”

 

“Do we?”

 

“Don’t play dumb. You know we do.”

 

“Okay, fine.”

 

They sit cross-legged on Harry’s mattress void of sheets, facing each other. Harry waits for Louis to speak first.

 

“So… You’re going into heat in a few days.”

 

“Right,” Harry agrees, trying to be jokingly coy but instead his voice just sounds nervous and weak.

 

“So have you decided yet? How you want to do it, I mean…”

 

“Um. It depends on what you want, I mean.”

 

“Oh,” Louis breathes, slouching down a little. “What do you mean?”

 

“Like, I mean, I don’t want to do it alone. Especially since Dr. Clark thinks it’s gonna kill me, so. But I’m also not ready to be bonded.”

 

“Are you asking—“

 

“Yes, I’m asking you if you’d like to help me through it. Without biting me though.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Okay you understand what I’m asking, or okay you’ll do it?”

 

“Both,” Louis responds, quickly leaning forward to kiss Harry on the cheek. “Like I said, anything you want me to be, I’ll be, okay?”

 

If Harry sleeps a little easier that night, curled up in his nest which has a few new stolen additions that smell like pine trees, well, then that’s that.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third update today ??? This is, apparently, how I spend my Saturdays.
> 
> I should be studying. Oops.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: depictions of panic attacks, vague mentions of dissociation (barely there), and the typical trauma/flashbacks. Sexual content.
> 
> If you have any questions prior to reading, don't be afraid to ask!

 

 

Make me kneel. Make me kneel so long my knees bruise.  
Use me. Use me until I cry don’t stop while I cry.  
I deserve it. I deserve it all anything you do I had coming.  
It will hurt. It will hurt but don’t stop when I scream.

Google search: ‘How do I explain to the man who loves me and has done nothing but care for me and love me gently, ever so gently, that these are my thoughts, these are my thoughts, and I cannot stop them and he could do anything to me and I would let him’

How can I explain that in my short life  
I have come to expect nothing  
But pain and pain and pain.  
And I can’t live without it.

I have learned oh how I have learned  
How much I am Nothing,  
And pain makes me Something,  
Then I am a frightened something.

Make me kneel.  
Use me.  
I deserve it.  
It will hurt.

_— Ashton, trauma-whore.tumblr.com, “I Am No Survivor, I Am No Longer Even Alive"_

 

 

 

The next few days go just as the previous few, with Harry spending almost all time in his nest, only leaving to eat or shower.

 

Coincidentally, the weather changes with his mood. The warm seventy-degree days falls to the high fifties as a storm forms over the lake and moves with slow by determined force towards the house above the beach. As the storm travels closer, Harry’s mood parallels it, dropping deeper and deeper into despair. He spends his days curled up in the dark, listening to the wind shake the structure of the house, the wood creaking and popping.

 

At the end of the third day, Liam, Zayn, and Niall are all packed up and ready for a camping trip to the Upper Peninsula to return in a week, after Harry’s heat is over. Harry feels bad about kicking him out of the house and suggested he and Louis go to a hotel, but Louis told him it would be better here and that they wanted to go camping this summer anyway. So then the house is empty and quiet except for the wind.

 

Part of Harry is afraid to ruin his nest with the overbearing and obtrusive scent of his heat, and the other part of him wants to do everything right here in the goddamn cramped closet, because, like always, it’s one of the only places where he truly feels safe. Realistically he knows he could never coax Louis into the small space to knot him, but there’s that frightened omega part of himself that fantasizes about never leaving it.

 

It has just started raining, the sky dark and heavy, when Louis knocks on the door and steps inside.

 

“Why don’t you come to bed, Harry?” Louis asks, voice lower than usual. Harry can tell his scent is affecting him.

 

It’s not an order but Harry complies easily, standing up with obedience and following Louis to his bedroom. Inside Louis closes the door and locks it as an extra precaution. Not that they actually need it, in the middle of nowhere and in a big house too, but it makes Harry feel safer and it probably puts Louis’ mind at ease, especially with how vulnerable they will be for the next few days.

 

Harry starts by sitting on the bed, but eventually he sinks down and curls up, because of how much it hurts. As his heat gets closer and closer so does the pain, and the feeling of a knife digging in between his hipbones makes him faint with agony.

 

Louis hands him a pill and a glass of water, and Harry swallows it down easily. Thus the pain pills for his heat commence. He isn’t sure how long it’s supposed to take in order to begin working, but he hopes it’s soon. Not only is his stomach aching but his bondmark too. Harry can only hope his alpha feels the exact same pain, however many miles away.

 

His alpha. Harry hasn’t thought of him that way in a while, not in those last words. Lately it’s been _asshole_ or _knothead_ or _monster_. That must mean something.

 

“You okay, baby?”

 

“Mhm,” Harry breathes, sinking his face into Louis’ pillow and breathing in that lovely, familiar scent of pine needles and a bonfire’s embers. He remembers the night he first inhaled Louis’ scent—that confusing, terrifying night. Harry’s alpha had ordered him to kneel facing the wall and not move, not speak. Louis had needed to use his own alpha commands to get Harry to stand up. Harry remembers the excruciating pain, the twist and pull of wanting to obey both alphas but not being able to obey them both simultaneously. He remembers ultimately choosing the stranger over his own alpha, and he remembers the sharp pain in his bondmark at that decision. That was the start of his insurrection. The start of his rebellion. His independence. Liberation.

 

His temperature is rising by the minute, and he can physically feel himself become more feverish and sweaty. Louis doesn’t seem to mind as he sits down beside Harry on the bed and pushes his hair off of his forehead, brushing it back and carding his fingers through it.

 

“Before, um,” Louis pauses awkwardly, his hands stilling in Harry’s hair. “Before you go into it, can we talk about boundaries and stuff? The things you’re okay with and the things you’re not?”

 

“Sure,” Harry breathes, pressing his head up to Louis’ touch, hoping he gets the message to start petting him again. He does, resuming his previous action that has Harry nearly mewling.

 

“No bonding, of course, but what else? Are you okay with me knotting you?”

 

“Yes, please, that’s what I want…”

 

“Okay. Kissing: yes or no?”

 

“Yes, yes, anything except bonding.”

 

“You sure?” Louis asks uneasily.

 

“I promise.”

 

“Alright.”

 

“I trust you,” Harry tells him, feeling his entire body getting warmer and warmer. Louis’ scent is becoming more and more intoxicating too… Making Harry dizzy. Despite the warmth and stuffiness of the room, Harry shivers. The storm rages on outside, the rain pouring now, the wind making the house creak.

 

“I’m glad, baby,” Louis sighs, leaning down and pressing his cool-feeling lips to Harry’s sweaty forehead. “Try to get some sleep, will you?”

 

“Okay, alpha,” Harry mumbles, eyes already closing sleepily. In his feverish haze, he completely misses how Louis’ breathing momentarily stops at Harry’s little slip up. It’s a big deal to call someone _alpha_ in the way that implies ‘ _my_ alpha.’ Almost as if they’re mated. Bonded.

 

It’s just. A lot.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

Harry wakes up to the feeling of his own slick between his thighs, wet and warm. His cock is hard too, lying heavy on his tummy, leaking on his skin.

 

And then there’s the pain. Which is, surprisingly, almost completely gone.

 

Blissed out by pain medication and the feeling of absolute, all-encompassing arousal, Harry opens his sleepy eyes and is happy to see Louis lying beside him, watching him.

 

“You alright, baby?” Louis asks quietly, slipping Harry’s shirt up to his ribcage and curling his fingers around Harry’s hip.

 

“Yes, yes,” he breathes, voice chant-like. He closes his eyes shut just for the feeling of reopening them and seeing Louis beside him, all lovely and attainable.

 

For some reason, now seems like the appropriate time, so Harry scoots closer and slots his body to Louis’ slipping his leg in between the alpha’s and pressing their hips together. He rubs off on Louis’ thigh, using it for his own pleasure. There’s still that unmovable ache in his tummy but it’s mostly gone now, just a dull pain that never really goes away. He knows why it’s there and the recognition makes him stop for a second, before he whispers, voice quiet and all broken up with misery:

 

“I can’t get pregnant.”

 

Louis doesn’t respond; instead he closes the void between their lips, slotting their mouths together and sucking on Harry’s bottom lip until he opens his mouth. Their teeth clash together and Louis licks into him, not caring how messy and unpracticed the kiss feels. It’s perfect in its imperfection.

 

When Louis pulls away for air he says, voice deep and lovely, “I’ll make you feel so good, omega.”

 

Harry, aflame with desire, pulls Louis to him by a tight grip on his hits, and ruts against him, more fervently this time. He has half the mind to kiss him again, but the other half of his mind is already long gone. Far away in dreamland.

 

Everything is warm. Everything is bright. The rain is pouring outside, the sky is dark, but Harry is here in bed with the most lovely, most beautiful alpha he has ever met.

 

“Please. Please make me feel good.”

 

Louis pulls back, groaning so low it’s almost a growl. Not of rage or fear but of _pleasure_. Of _longing_. _Wanting_.

 

With careful hands he peels of Harry’s jumper, tossing it to the floor without concern to where it lands. He kisses all over the omega’s face, neck, and chest, and then spends a long time on his belly, right where the ache still is.

 

“You’re so amazing,” Louis tells him, sucking on the pale skin beside the sharp jut of his hipbone. “So lovely. So different. A perfect omega.”

 

Overwhelmed with emotion, Harry starts crying. And then he realizes he can’t stop. He just lets the waterworks pour out like the rain falling from the sky and it feels good. Liberating.

 

Louis pulls away abruptly, and through the tears Harry can see he’s a bit bewildered.

 

“Are you alright? Is everything okay?”

 

“Yes, yes, I promise,” and he leans up to kiss the worry off Louis’ face.

 

Cautiously this time, Louis continues on and tugs Harry’s sweats down, his boxers coming too. And then Louis is slipping him into his mouth and everything is warm and sweet and perfect, so perfect is makes his head spin.

 

He curls his fingers in Louis’ hair, tugging to show his enthusiasm. Moaning too, because they have the whole house to themselves, and he doesn’t want Louis to stop touching him. He has this irrational fear that Louis will stop.

 

When he pulls off before Harry comes, the omega whines, hands trembling.

 

“Patience,” Louis mutters, pulling his clothes off and throwing them on the floor to the same fate as Harry’s. Once they’re both equally naked he returns and kisses Harry deeply.

 

It isn’t until Louis slips a finger in Harry’s wet heat with the intention of opening him up that things go wrong.

 

It must be a trigger or something, with the way that it sends him spiraling immediately from bliss to nothing but darkness. In a flash he’s brought back to the pain and fear and torture of the months between October and June, all those days hidden away in the flat by the river. The commands and the orders, impossible and tearing him apart. The sex too, that’s what it is that brings him back—his alpha fingering him painfully, making it hurt. _Wanting_ to hurt him.

 

Harry doesn’t realize he has pulled away, retreating completely within himself, curled up at the top of the bed. Louis sits across from him, startled and afraid to touch him for fear of making the situation worse.

 

The omega is shaking and crying and the pain all comes rushing back so he curls in on himself and rocks back and forth, desperately grasping for any sort of comfort no matter how thin or artificial.

 

“Harry… Omega…” Louis breathes, his voice a sugary-sweet, lovely dream in the midst of a horrifying nightmare. Harry feels like he’s drowning, falling to the bottom of the lake, where it’s cold and dark and nothing lives, nothing lives, _nothing lives_ …

 

There’s pain and fear and disgust and horror, terror, trauma. All of these emotions, the one’s he’s been feeling for weeks now, months even, pile up on top of him and suffocate him. Suddenly he remembers the day this all began, when he was leaving work later than usual, walking through the parking garage. Almost to his car. Almost. Almost.

 

And then. Slammed against the wall, the fear that was instilled into him from the very beginning. The commanding voice telling him to be quiet, ordering him to stay still. The sharp teeth that bit into his neck and objectified him in the truest sense of the word—the teeth that turned him into nothing more than property.

 

He remembers it, slipping fully into his heat later that night. He remembers the confusion and the dissonance. He remembers his body betraying him, forcing him to the ground to offer himself up, again like an object, like a fuck toy, like something that doesn’t even matter, like something worthless.

 

He remembers it, the angry tears, the stupid fucking _pain_ , all of it. The terror that never really goes away, even now, as he’s sitting on the bed of the nicest alpha he’s ever met, and he can’t help but panic and freak out and curl up, caving in on himself in the way that the edge of a cliff crumbles and falls to the water below.

 

The lake is drowning him and he’s nowhere even near the water and nothing makes sense, nothing makes sense, none of it fucking makes sense. How can he drown when there’s no water near?

 

But… There’s something warm on his neck. Hands, maybe. No—lips. Soft lips, ones he recognizes. Louis’.

 

“Harry…” The alpha is crying too, wet tears staining the sensitive skin of Harry’s neck.

 

It’s stupid, but at once the omega feels an inexplicable urge to comfort the alpha, to take away his pain because his pain makes Harry hurt too. The alpha. _His_ alpha. _Louis_.

 

Harry takes Louis’ face in his hands and holds him close, through the tears hugging him deeply, trying to take the pain away. It doesn’t occur to him that Louis is crying because Harry is, so he stupidly and blindly tries to comfort Louis even though that’s exactly what the alpha is trying to do with him.

 

As an omega Harry is possessive and jealous and needy, but caring. The most caring of all the genders, selfless in the way that an omega will be the martyr for the sake of the kingdom, always taking the weight on his shoulders even though he’s the least qualified of all the genders to support it. As an omega, the weight of the world is on his shoulders, and the future of it, too. The future that Harry cannot contribute to, because his body is stupid and fucked up and incapable of reproducing.

 

“Are you alright?” Louis asks desperately, eyes searching Harry’s.

 

“I’m sorry, let me try again,” Harry sobs, clambering onto Louis’ lap and somehow managing to sit on his semi-flaccid cock, despite the fact that he isn’t prepped in the slightest and Louis is frantically trying to shoo him away. With fervor, Harry slides up and down until Louis is fully hard and the intrusion isn’t as foreign in his body.

 

“Harry, what—“ Louis gasps, hands gripping the omega’s hips very tightly in a futile effort to still him.

 

Driven by a newfound desire to please Louis, Harry fucks himself on him, completely in hysterics. Salty tears stream down his face without inhibition, so many they could fill the ocean a million times over. His tears drip all over Louis too, but he doesn’t stop, desperate to do something right for once in his life. The irony is that he thinks it’s what Louis wants, but it really, really isn’t.

 

It isn't good, not at all. In fact, it only feels good, but a sick kind of good. A sick kind of pleasure that shouldn't be pleasure, but it is. It is.

 

They come together, despite Harry’s hysterics and Louis’ reserve and worry. When Harry’s finished, he slums forward, collapsing on top of Louis’ body and dragging him down to the bed, breathing heavily. Is crying doesn’t stop, even now, but it slows enough as his breathing returns to even and normal. Louis stares up at the ceiling, his knot big and stretching Harry’s insides, probably very painfully, and wonders what the fuck just happened.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh sorry to leave halfway through Harry's heat. I wanted to publish this before I went to sleep because that means four chapters posted in one day! Yay.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading.
> 
> Love you.
> 
> xx Adri


	7. Chapter 7

TO BE SO LONELY  
YOU TOLD YOURSELF  
YOU LIKED TO BE  
THIS WAY AND  
ALMOST BELIEVED  
IT WAS TRUE.

_— Natalie Wee, excerpt from “(Suicide Letter In) Parts, 2010,” featured in her poetry collection _ Our Bodies & Other Fine Machines

 

 

 

“Jesus Christ. Harry, are you alright?”

 

“Fine, fine,” the omega cries into Louis chest, body aching despite the pain medication. He’s still on top of Louis since they’re still locked together, and will be for the next twenty minutes or so.

 

“What did you just… What just happened?”

 

“I don’t know,” Harry cries harder, the waterworks pouring out as always, just like the storm utside. “I don’t know, I’m sorry, please let me make it up to you—“

 

“Harry, stop, oh my god. Calm down,” Louis groans, flipping them so the omega is beneath him. “You had a panic attack, and for some reason you thought it was a good idea to keep on fucking yourself,” Louis bites, his tone terse. It sends a chill down Harry’s spine, and he straightens up, feeling very nervous.

 

Louis sees Harry’s anxiety and immediately softens, sighing and leaning down to kiss Harry on the lips.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m just worried for you. You just, like, broke down… And then assumed we still had to have sex even though you were having a fucking _panic attack_ …”

 

“I—What did I do wrong? I thought I—“

 

“Shhhh,” Louis shushes him, encompassing Harry in his arms. Harry likes it here, slightly lucid even though he’s in heat, satisfied with an alpha’s knot up is bum, feeling safe and protected because Louis is lying on top of him. “We’ll talk about it later, okay? Once you can think straight again. Just- Tell me if it’s too much, yeah? And don’t worry about doing anything for me; this is supposed to be only about you.”

 

“Alright,” Harry agrees reluctantly. And then his semi-lucid state turns hazy again when Louis starts kissing him while simultaneously stroking his cock. It’s a lot, especially with the sensation of already being filled up with Louis’ warmth.

 

He doesn’t remember much after that. It’s all kind of a blur, an orgasmic blur. It’s nice though. He remembers a lot of Louis kissing all over his body, lips everywhere, pretending he’s precious. Pretending he’s worth something.

 

If Harry tries hard enough, he can almost believe it too.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

It gets easier. After the night of fucking, slow and steady, careful even, it gets easier.

 

The next day Harry wakes up, full of need and want, pressed beneath Louis. Part of him wants to wake Louis up to get the alpha to fuck him, and the other part of him doesn’t want to wake him at all because he looks so peaceful. So he settles for something in between, rubbing off on Louis’ hip and coming just like that, empty and aching and only semi-satisfied.

 

Louis wakes when Harry comes, since he’s a little too loud in the way he moans and whimpers. The alpha laughs slightly, running his fingers up and down the bumps of Harry’s spine and massaging out the knots.

 

“Want me to fuck you, omega?”

 

“Yes, _please_ ,” Harry whines, his own come sticking to his tummy.

 

“Tell me how you want it.”

 

“Anything. However you wanna give it.”

 

“Pick something,” Louis responds, voice nothing short of an order.

 

“Like this. Slow.”

 

Louis props himself up on his elbows and leans down to kiss Harry, hard but slow, licking into his mouth and tasting. The way their bodies meld together, an alpha and an omega, is euphoric. It’s exactly as it’s meant to be and the result is nothing short of dizzying. Biologically, they’re made for each other.

 

Harry is still open form the night before, but Louis pushes in slowly anyways, probably afraid to hurt him. He sucks at the omega’s neck, avoiding the hypersensitive bondmark which aches even with the heavy pain medication.

 

“You’re lovely,” Louis tells him in a feather-light breath, kissing all over as if to prove his point. He starts fucking in slowly, one hand on Harry’s hip and the other propping him up so he doesn’t crush Harry below him.

 

Not that he could, really, since Harry is bigger than Louis even though Harry is the omega, not Louis. Most people would turn away from a relationship like this, where the alpha is physically smaller than the omega, and his voice is higher too, raspy and beautiful. Most people would think it’s strange or unnatural but it’s something Harry loves about it. Even though he’s with an alpha who could most definitely kill him at the slightest inclination, since all alphas have that sort of power over O’s, Harry doesn’t feel afraid.

 

And there’s something about the two of them together, too, that Harry just finds pleasing. The way that Louis is his perfect compliment. The way they are both unconventional in their genders but somehow that unconventionality is parallel and it melds together to form nothing short of something beautiful.

 

Harry is too tall to be a typical omega, too lanky and awkward, no real curves or anything. His body works as an omega’s of course, with the insomnia and the inability to keep himself warm (all the bad things) but in fact now that he comes to think about it, it makes sense he’s infertile. He isn’t a typical omega and without the small, delicate, curvy body, he isn’t really fit to give birth. He has the fragility but not the typical omega beauty that should accompany the weakness.

 

Then there’s Louis, who is one of the shortest alphas Harry has ever met, but he has the customary alpha strength and no faintness of heart. He sleeps a lot and he’s always warm and in fact his literal job is to save people who can’t save themselves. He’s short and curvy like an omega, with wide hips and thick thighs and for a second Harry can’t help but be envious, wishing they could trade bodies.

 

Louis doesn’t seem bothered by Harry’s opposite-ness, however, as he presses Harry into the bed and fucks him all slow and sweet like he’s keen on making it last. Harry is getting desperate, though, the feeling of need and want overcoming him, so he lifts his hips fervently in indication that he wants more.

 

Harry was due for another birth-control shot last week, and Louis is spilling into him without a condom, knot swelling and leaving him with a warm satisfied feeling. But none of it matters because Harry is physically unable to get pregnant. Again the recognition of this fact leaves him sad and weepy, small salty tears leaking out the corners of his eyes as he tries to smile at Louis to show his contentment at being knotted.

 

Louis sees through the weak smile, though, and he leans in and licks away Harry’s tears with his tongue. Harry is startled because it’s such an omega thing to do and it doesn’t make sense why Louis is doing it, until Harry remembers that the alpha had an omega mother, and she must’ve licked his tears away as a child.

 

It makes Harry laugh even as he’s crying, shying away from Louis and blushing like crazy. The funny this is that Louis knot is up Harry’s bum but he isn’t blushing because of that—he’s blushing because Louis is licking his tears away.

 

Harry doesn’t want to get pregnant, not right now at least. He doesn’t want babies right now so he shouldn’t be crying. But it’s the understanding that in the future, when he really does want kids, he won’t be able to have them. It’s the comprehension that everything he is doing right now is absolutely, one hundred percent futile. No point to Louis’ thrusts or his knot or any of it at all. No point to the way Harry’s body invites him in and wants him to stay. No point at all. Everything is futile.

 

The devastating truth is that no alpha will ever want Harry. He’s never heard of an infertile omega being bonded or even mated, and it makes sense. Why would anyone bond an omega who is incapable of doing the one thing they’re made for?

 

But Louis is kissing Harry like he wants him, one hand under his back, massaging the bumps of his spine. Harry knows it’s just an act to please him during his heat, and once this is all over Louis will just let Harry go because he has nothing to do with him anyway.

 

It hurts more than it should, considering Harry has known this for a while. Even before he learned of his infertility, he knew.

 

No one will ever truly want him.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

The pain starts a few hours later, and after that it doesn’t go away, no matter how many pills Harry swallows.

 

Louis is concerned, looking at him all worried with his brows furrowed and his lips drawn in a thin line. He fucks Harry through his heat anyway, probably afraid that if he stops, Harry will die of agony like the omega doctor said he would.

 

So Harry spends the remaining five days of his heat with Louis’ knot in him almost the entire time. He’s nearly completely motionless on the bed which is wet and sticky with come and desperately needing to be washed. Louis spends a lot of time and effort trying to pleasure Harry but none of it really works. The pain of his body revolting against him, desiring the alpha he’s still bonded to, overwhelms all other sensations.

 

Louis only leaves the bedroom to go to the kitchen, bringing back food and water. Harry’s appetite is almost nonexistent, but he tries to drink water as Louis eats, attempting very arduously to ignore the nauseous feeling in his stomach.

 

On the third day, Louis finally gets them in the shower, and once Harry is knotted again he takes the thirty minutes of rest as they’re stuck together to wash both of them thoroughly. It’s difficult with the limited mobility, especially because Harry can feel every little movement the alpha makes since they’re connected, but somehow they manage with only minimal difficulty.

 

After they’re clean, Louis carries Harry in his arms back to the bedroom but hesitates before depositing him on the bed. The sheets are come-soaked and disgusting, so he sets Harry gently on the ground and leaves for a moment, returning with an armful of extra pillows from the closet. Placing them on the hardwood floor and lying Harry on top of them, he folds Harry in half to get a better angle. Harry obliges, keeping his knees to his chest and hooking his ankles behind Louis’ neck.

 

Louis brings him off the edge, for the millionth time in the past few days, this time by smoothing his hands over the pale insides of Harry’s thighs and stroking his skin softly. Then he shifts them over so they’re lying on their sides, and Harry slides his legs down and locks them around the alpha’s hips, keeping them pressed close together.

 

He falls asleep with his face in Louis’ neck, right over his scent glad, where all he can smell is pine. After the exhaustion and the confusion and the pain, the fragrance lulls him to sleep in seconds.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

It isn’t until the fifth day that Harry becomes lucid enough to not need a knot in him at all times.

 

This is when things get awkward.

 

With the new recognition that he is naked and vulnerable beside an alpha, he blushes furiously as they cuddle together, on the bed again after they took a break to wash and dry the sheets. No matter that he’s been naked around Louis for the past few days, unashamedly begging for sex. As his heat slowly becomes less and less, he finds his embarrassment increasing tenfold every hour.

 

“Feeling better?” Louis asks quietly, when he notices how Harry is shying away from his gaze and burying his face in Louis’ shoulder, cheeks aflame with humiliation.

 

Harry nods reluctantly, cheek rubbing against the alpha’s neck.

 

It makes Louis laugh as he cards his fingers through Harry’s hair. “Aww, don’t be shy now…”

 

The omega makes a noise of embarrassed distress and doesn’t lift his head up even though the alpha is coaxing him to do so with his gentle touches and soft, careful voice. Treating him again like he’s breakable, lovely, and worth something. The only accuracy is the breakability.

 

It comes back in flashes, when he’s not expecting it. The stupid reminder that his body is fucking useless and his future is fucking dead. _He’ll never be able to have kids_. It shouldn’t tear him apart as much as it does.

 

“I’ll never be able to have kids,” he repeats out loud, because it feels good to solidify the truth that stirs up his insides and makes him sick with _the absolute futility of his life_.

 

Louis sighs, probably expecting the conversation at some point. He takes the opportunity to lick at Harry’s fading but aching bondmark, making him shiver. “Adoption.”

 

_It isn’t the same_ , Harry wants to say, but he knows it’s a poor argument. It makes him feel awful, anyway, when he thinks of all the kids in the world without parents, without homes.

 

And then there’s the fact that even if he does adopt, he’ll never have a mate because no one will want him. Who would choose to mate an infertile omega when there are so many other O’s in the world actually capable of having babies?

 

“Stop thinking no one wants you because you can’t have kids,” Louis chides, reading Harry’s thoughts exactly. “Stop thinking this somehow determines your worth.”

 

“It’s true though,” Harry says, stubborn and sad, the pain in his tummy intensifying, the ache in his heart never really going away. The rain pouring outside, coming down in sheets, soaking the world in coldness, darkness, and wetness, only parallels the heavy weight in Harry’s mind.

 

Louis just stares at him with steely eyes like he’s willing him to understand. This isn’t a conversation Harry wants to have right now so he pretends to be horny and starts grinding against the alpha.

 

Louis lets it go and flips Harry onto his back, pressing him into the mattress and kissing him all over.

 

So the distraction works.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support <3
> 
> PS What do you think of the epigraphs (the quotes at the beginning of each chapter) ?
> 
>  
> 
> [Reblog the new moodboard](http://angelichl.tumblr.com/post/168648843544/somewhere-far-away-from-here-by-angelichl-harry-is)
> 
>  
> 
> xx Adri


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this makes sense. (I feel like it doesn't.)

Do you regret your life?

Even before I was touched, I belonged to you;  
you only had to look at me.

_— Louise Glück, excerpt from_ The Burning Heart

 

 

The sixth day, Harry sleeps for eighteen out of twenty-four hours, and spends the remaining six hours _wishing_ he was asleep.

 

In the morning, Louis washes the sheets one final time, and Harry takes the opportunity to hop in the shower and do a deep, thorough cleanse. He feels disgusting after five days of nothing but come and sweat, so it feels heavenly to stand in Louis’ large shower and finally wash off the accumulated grime. By the time the hour is up, his skin is pink and damp and sweet-smelling, back to his original omega scent, yet still tinged by Louis’ alpha-ness.

 

The scent of Louis’ alpha-ness is something that won’t go away for a long time. Even if he actually _tried_ to wash it off, it would still linger. Luckily Harry doesn’t mind. The omega part of him hums very contentedly at the fragrance of pine needles clinging to his skin—the very fragrance of pine needles that marks the omega as _Louis’_ omega. They may not be formally bonded, but for now the omega part of Harry doesn’t care, and is just insanely satisfied he got Louis’ alpha knot. For now everything is okay… the dissonance will come later, of course.

 

He dries himself off with a fluffy towel that smells like vanilla detergent, and then he stands in front of the foggy mirror and stares at his blurry reflection for an inordinate amount of time. Trying to figure out what’s wrong with him, what _really_ is the cause of his infertility.

 

He doesn’t see much. Just a stupid omega body that doesn’t look very much like an omega at all. The same stupid omega body he’s been staring at for years. Skinny thighs, slim hips, lean tummy. He’s tall and gaunt, and no matter how much he eats he doesn’t see a change in his body at all. His bum still remains flat and his hip bones still poke out sharply and nothing is right. Nothing is right at all. He doesn’t look like an omega, and he definitely doesn’t look like an alpha. He doesn’t even look like a beta. He just. Looks like nothing. No one.

 

When the fog of the mirror finally clears up, Harry gazes into the reflection of his own self, and finds the reflection of exhausted eyes gazing right back, watching him carefully. His skin is sickly pale from all the pain, and the purple crescent moons beneath his lids have only gotten darker over the past week. His eyes, which used to be bright mossy green, are now dull and almost gray. They’re red-rimmed from crying on and off for months, and he’s not exactly sure they’ll ever not look that way. Vaguely he wonders if he could manage not crying for a long enough time, so that his eyes wouldn’t look so sad.

 

This… isn’t how it’s supposed to go. Right now, Harry should be elated that the alpha he likes a little too much spent his heat with him, knotting him a million times and taking care of him and doing everything an omega craves. Kissing him, protecting him, all of it. Everything sweet and soft, caring.

 

Yet here he is, standing in front of his own ghostly reflection, and all he can think of is how futile the past five days have been. _Yes_ he spent his heat with an alpha and _yes_ he was knotted too many times to count, but none of it matters. The entire act is just… pointless. And Harry can’t shake this thought from his head. It looms over him like heavy storm clouds, gnawing away at him like a dog chewing on a bone, relentlessly.

 

He stares at his reflection and his reflection stares back, and everything is cold and ugly and unforgiving, and, on top of it all, meaningless. Useless. Inane. Stupid. Pointless. Futile.

 

Harry doesn’t cry, but as he gazes blankly at the sullen manifestation of himself, he feels something small inside of him break. It cracks, like a wine glass squeezed too tightly. Then, it shatters.

 

With a strange heaviness in his feet, almost as if he doesn’t have the energy to even move his limbs, he stumbles back into the bedroom and crawls beneath the duvet. He’s too worn out to move to his nest even though he’d prefer to be there instead. So he curls up in the freshly washed sheets that smell faintly of vanilla mixed with alpha, and a hint of his own scent, and he goes to sleep.

 

Sometimes, broken things can’t be fixed.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

Later, in the evening, Louis manages to coax Harry out of bed and into the hot tub.

 

“C’mon H, please please please,” Louis begs, tugging gently on the omega’s arm. Harry rolls over and shoves his face in the pillow, trying to block out the beauty that is Louis’ light voice which sounds like tiny bells pealing. “You’ll feel so much better, I promise.”

 

“I feel fine,” Harry mumbles, most of the words warped by his mouth pressed up against the pillow.

 

“No you don’t—stop wallowing, we have to go. You need to get out of this bed.”

 

“I like it here.”

 

“Stop lying to me!” Louis cries, only partly joking. The other part of him is just very exasperated. “Please Harry, please please please pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplea—“

 

“Mmmgmmgmhghm fine!”

 

“Thank god,” he mutters underneath his breath, helping Harry out of bed and handing him a pair of yellow swim trunks. The omega changes into them without batting a lash, feeling so apathetic that he doesn’t even care if Louis sees him naked anymore. Even though they just spent the past five days naked together, it makes him embarrassed now that he’s actually lucid. Except not right now, because he’s spiraling into despair and everything is meaningless. What’s the point of having a heat if he can’t be with his _real_ alpha? What’s the point if he can’t even get _pregnant_?

 

“You’re thinking so loudly right now it’s hurting my head, omega,” Louis warns, gently brushing his fingers over Harry’s cheek in an effort to bring him out of his own mind.

 

Harry doesn’t react, except to fully stand up and wait impatiently for Louis to lead him outside. And Louis does just that, sliding back the door and stepping out onto the deck, Harry trailing behind. They turn to the right, and at the end of the deck is the hot tub. Louis heads over to it to fiddle with the buttons, getting it ready for them, while Harry sits on the bench and looks out at the lake below.

 

The moonlight glistens on the calm, tranquil water, leaving a glowing white streak down the center. The waves kiss the shore gently in their tiredness, only receding a few inches before rising again and licking at the sand carefully.

 

When Harry turns back, he sees Louis has the hot tub ready and is stepping into it slowly, hissing at the heat touching his skin. He sinks in with hesitation but eventual relaxes into its one hundred and four degree temperature. Then he turns to Harry and holds out a hand to help him inside. Harry takes it and complacently lets Louis guide him until his entire body is submerged in the near boiling water except his shoulders. The tension in his muscles immediately relaxes, and a quiet sigh flutters from his lips.

 

“Told you,” Louis gloats, leaning back and watching as Harry’s shoulders drop and he relaxes further, relishing in the feeling of warmth encompassing his entire body.

 

Harry rolls his eyes, admitting, “Yeah, okay, you were right.”

 

“Always am.”

 

He gently whacks Louis in the arm for his faux-arrogance. Louis catches his hand, and suddenly his expression turns serious.

 

“What?” Harry asks quietly, already feeling meek and shy and defensive. He looks away from the alpha’s inquisitive gaze and tries to retain the feeling of respite. It dissipates anyways.

 

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

 

“Nothing’s wrong,” he says, voice all choppy, almost robotic. Obviously it’s a lie; Harry knows it and Louis does too.

 

“If you don’t tell me, I’m just gonna have to guess.”

 

Harry tries for flippancy and fails. “Go ahead,” he mutters, waving his dripping hand through the air. It feels cold above the surface of the water so he drops it below and presses it between his thighs, a nervous habit.

 

“You regret spending your heat with me,” Louis says finally.

 

“What? No.” What in the world? Does Louis really think that?

 

Louis narrows his eyes. “That’s what you’re acting like, though. I thought… I thought you-“

 

“Alpha,” Harry cuts in, using that goddamn term that makes Louis shift his eyes quickly away.“I’m _glad_ you spent it with me.”

 

“Really?” He sounds skeptical.

 

Harry can’t believe he let Louis doubt this. If there’s anything in the world he wants, it’s to have Louis understand how grateful he is to the alpha, for everything.

 

“Trust me, please,” Harry groans, tilting his head back and staring up at the night sky filled with tiny pinpricks of light. He’s achy with exhausted and sadness and now something new, too—the realization that Louis thinks Harry doesn’t want him. “I am so, so thankful you did that for me. Apparently I haven’t told you thank you enough, so, _thank you_. Seriously.”

 

When Harry looks back over at him, he sees Louis biting at his thumbnail. He seems hesitant in the way that he refuses to accept Harry gratitude without delay. For a second Harry thinks Louis is gonna deny the omega’s words and accuse him of lying. Instead, he chews on his nail and says, “okay. You’re welcome. So, if it’s not that, then what’s wrong?”

 

_Nothing. Something. A lot of things. Everything._ Harry stares at the sky and wonders if Louis will guess correctly. Most of him wishes he won’t, and they’ll be able to move on from this painful, confusing conversation.

 

“Does it have to do with your heat?”

 

“Sorta,” Harry answers weakly.

 

“Your alpha?”

 

“Ehh, not really…”

 

Louis thinks for a while, observing Harry without relent.

 

Harry is kind of getting tired of this. _Really_ tired. Of _all_ of this. Like, tired enough to sleep for years. Or the even better alternative—to just die right fucking now. That’s what he really wants, and when he admits it to himself for the first time he feels this strange weight lifted off his shoulders at the recognition of the realization. If he wants to sleep forever, and death is the eternal sleep, then…

 

He shouldn’t be as elated at the revelation as he is, but, well. He can’t really help it.

 

Louis is still staring at him with his pretty, probing eyes. It feels annoyingly intrusive but innocently curious all at once.

 

“ _Oh_ ,” Louis breathes out suddenly, coming to a new conclusion. His expression saddens immediately and his eyes widen in sympathy. Not empathy, but sympathy. The distinction is important because Louis feels sorry for Harry, but he doesn’t have the ability to _understand_. “Oh Harry,” he whispers, eyes heavy. _Sad sad sad._ “It’s the thing about having kids, right?”

 

Harry doesn’t respond, in favor of staring up at the night sky and the twinkling stars. If he’s trying to find meaning, this isn’t the way to do it. Gazing out at the universe does nothing but make him feel entirely insignificant.

 

Louis grabs Harry’s hand beneath the water and squeezes tightly like he’s trying to keep Harry tethered to the earth, for fear he might float away, or just disappear altogether. When Harry looks back at him he looks solemnly pensive.

 

“There’s more to life than having kids, you know,” Louis says quietly. “I know it sounds selfish, or maybe just untrue, but… Families can be made in a thousand different ways.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Well, yes you can have kids and all that. That’s one way of making a family. But another is just by bonding someone—I mean, they become part of your family too. Or even just having a really close group of friends; they’re family too. It isn’t always about having babies. Sometimes it’s about finding the people already out there in the world—the people who have already been conceived. And… reaching out to your already existing family, too.”

 

The omega ponders this for a quiet moment. He thinks he can almost see the point. “You mean, like, my mum and my sister?”

 

“Yeah, I think, um- I think you should call them. It’ll take a load off your mind and definitely make you feel better. Less alone.”

 

“I guess. I really don’t know why I’ve been waiting so long… It’s just like, they know the old me, but not the me I am right now. You know? Like, because of what happened, I became different…”

 

“You’re afraid they won’t recognize you,” Louis confirms, understanding. His eyes are dark and sad in the pitch black night. “And they’ll expect you to be like you used to be, except you’re not that person anymore.”

 

Harry nods, feeling panicky tears prick at his eyes. God, he has so many problems right now. Recovering from abuse and trauma, breaking the bond between him and his alpha, spending his heat with a practical stranger, the fucking infertility thing, and also this. His family.

 

“You don’t have to call them anytime soon. Just… take your time. And um, maybe I could somehow get a message to them that you’re safe? Just so they aren’t worrying anymore. That way you won’t have to talk to them right away, but you won’t feel guilty for putting it off.”

 

“You could do that?”

 

“Definitely. I’ll figure out a way to do it, okay? For you.”

 

“Thank you,” Harry sighs.

 

“Of course.” Louis swirls his hand in the water, watching the steam rise up into the air and dissipate until it’s invisible. “I, um- When I was talking about the family thing, I meant your mum and sister, but also, like, other people too. I know you don’t have your A anymore, but you have me- And the rest of the guys too. We’re your friends now. Your family, if you want us.”

 

The urge to cry comes surging back with newfound potency, but this time for a different reason. Not because he’s scared or panicked or sad, but because he’s overwhelmed with the feeling of being _cared for_.

 

The alpha must notice, because he slides closer to Harry, close enough that they’re pressed up against each other, and he wraps his arms around him in a tight, protective hug.

 

“Do you want us?” Louis asks, voice quiet, lips brushing up against Harry’s ear.

 

“Yes,” he breathes, “yes.”

 

They hug for a while longer, until the combined heat from their intertwined bodies coupled with the water of the hot tub becomes too unbearable. Louis helps Harry out, making sure he doesn’t slip, with one hand grasping Harry’s hand and the other placed on his hip. After that they stand there, shivering in the cool night air, their insides still much too warm from the hot tub.

 

“Wanna swim in the lake?”

 

“Won’t it be too cold for me?”

 

Louis waves his hand dismissively, smile widening. “Nah, the sun warmed it up all day. If we stay where it’s shallow you should be fine.”

 

“And if not?” Harry asks, teasingly, just because he can, just because he feels like it.

 

“Well, then I’ll have no choice but to cuddle you until you’re warm again, little omega.”

 

_God_. Louis knows just how to make Harry melt into a puddle of goo, insides pleasantly warm and twisted. Harry grabs his hand enthusiastically and starts tugging him down the stairs, breaking into a run, not caring about the rough wood beneath his feet and how he might get splinters. They chase each other down to the beach and go straight to the water, only slowing down when it reaches their hips and becomes harder and harder to run.

 

The lake water feels pleasantly cool on Harry’s skin compared to that of the hot tub, which is surprising because he thought it would feel icy and frigid. Instead, the gentle coolness calms him to no end.

 

So there they are, alpha and omega, swimming in the lake beneath the moon and the stars. Harry is still aching, but he feels the tiniest bit better. Like a very small weight has been lifted, and he no longer feels like he’s alone. He has Louis there with him, and everything will be okay.

 

Everything will be okay. He has to remember to keep telling himself that. Maybe one of these days he’ll begin to believe it.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments inspire me to keep writing. Seriously, whenever I see a paragraph-long comment I get a little teary and my heart flips in my chest lol. The fact that you're reading what I'm writing is really really really awesome and it makes me so happy, so thank you.
> 
> Always always always feel free to [come talk to me!](http://angelichl.tumblr.com/ask)
> 
> If you like this and want to help a sis out by sharing it, [reblog the new fic post on Tumblr.](http://angelichl.tumblr.com/post/168648843544/somewhere-far-away-from-here-by-angelichl-harry-is)
> 
> Or, [reblog the old moodboard](http://angelichl.tumblr.com/post/168380671174/somewhere-far-away-from-here-by-angelichl-seven) if you so prefer.
> 
> Thanks again for reading and being the most lovely people ever <3
> 
> xx Adri
> 
> (PS If you ever wanna create art (drawing, making a moodboard, etc) do not hesitate! I will love you forever if you do. As some of you may know I'm a hoe for the aesthetic. Ok bye)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I know I suck as a human being but please forgive me. I blame writer's block and all that. Not much happens in this chapter but there's some communication so that's good. Enjoy!

You put your hand across my mouth but still the noise continues  
Every part of my body is screaming  
I’m about to be shot into a thousand different pieces  
Each part belonging to you forever

_— Tracey Emin, Love Poem_

 

 

That night, after they swim beneath the sky full of twinkling stars, Harry dries off with a beach towel and then crawls into his nest still smelling like lake water. Surprisingly, it’s a pleasant fragrance, and he doesn’t mind it infiltrating his nest even though typically he’s very picky about scents. In fact he kind of enjoys it.

 

The next day, Liam, Niall, and Zayn return from their week-long camping trip at nine o’clock in the morning, when Louis is still asleep and Harry is sitting on the couch with a mug of coffee in his hands. He has it less for the caffeine and more to keep himself warm—the days after his heat he usually feels hypersensitive to temperature, much like the days leading up to it. So he’s bundled in a blanket that smells like Louis when they enter through the front door with all of their bags.

 

“Hey Harry,” Liam greets as the three of them come into the living room, looking tired and slightly dirty, but happy. Harry says hi back but the alpha looks a bit awkward and tentative. Harry understands because he’s sure the house still smells like heat and sex. He kind of wants to sink into the floor to escape his humiliation.

 

Niall, being an omega, definitely understands more, as he gives Harry a small smile and asks, “Feeling okay?”

 

“Mhm,” Harry mutters, wrapping his fingers more tightly around his mug. The truth is he’s really not feeling okay. The pain is still eating away at him and his bondmark is throbbing now more than ever, and as always there’s that constant knife twisting deep in his gut and reminding him of his depressing barrenness. “Just cold,” he answers as an alternative to listing all of the aches and pains he’s currently feeling—most of them more mental than physical.

 

“I’ll go grab some blankets,” Niall offers, leaving the room before Harry can protest. When he comes back he wraps Harry up in another four layers like a helpful, caring omega. It makes Harry smile even as he feels like shit.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Of course. Why aren’t you with Louis though?”

 

Liam and Zayn are in the kitchen but when Harry glances over he sees them pretending not to listen even though it’s obvious they’re eavesdropping as they’re clearly interested in any progression between Louis and Harry in the past few days. Well, even if Harry was brazen enough to enlighten them, he wouldn’t have much to say. Aside from Louis being very sweet and alpha-like to Harry, and Harry being in a whole lot of pain (which isn’t out of the ordinary), not much happened.

 

“Uh, he’s sleeping right now.”

 

“Yeah but like…” Niall trails off, looking confused.

 

Harry knows he didn’t answer Niall’s question but he’s hoping he’ll take the hint and understand anyway, maybe through something like omega telepathy. He stares at Niall through meaningful eyes, trying to convey the words _we’re still just friends, nothing happened_ without opening his mouth.

 

Niall seems to understand, as his eyes widen in comprehension for a moment before he furrows his brow and glances back down the hall in the direction of Louis’ bedroom. Harry assumes he’s thinking something along the lines of _what the fuck_ , and _why aren’t you together_ because Harry has kind of been thinking the same thoughts. So when the omega turns back to Harry he isn’t surprised to see his face looking very concerned.

 

Niall’s concern makes sense, though, because it’s not the most pleasant experience for an mega to spend heat with an alpha and then be completely alone right after it, still unmated and unbonded and all of that. The days following an omega’s heat are typically spent with the very needy omega curled up in his alpha’s arms, basking in attention and care. So the fact that Harry is alone and sitting on the couch, using his mug of coffee for warmth and feigned comfort, is quite sad.

 

“It’s okay,” Harry says slowly, staring at the black coffee.

 

“Umm, okay…” Niall says, carefully sitting down on the couch. “I’m just gonna come out and ask, why aren’t you guys together?”

 

The omega in question sighs from beneath his cocoon of blankets and closes his eyes, trying to find the strength to answer. “We haven’t… discussed it, I guess, so…”

 

“Oh,” Niall breathes. He looks back towards the kitchen and makes eye contact with Liam who stares right back while they have a silent conversation. “Well okay then,” Niall says finally, standing up and patting Harry on the head. Then he picks up his bags, heading towards the bedrooms, and gestures for Liam and Zayn to follow him. Harry is ninety-five percent certain they’re going to discuss the strange situation between Louis and Harry in the privacy of their own bedroom.

 

Surprisingly enough, Harry can’t bring himself to care. He sinks back into the couch, enjoying the weight and heat of the mountain of blankets on top of him. They smell faintly like omega—Niall, of course—but mostly just like laundry detergent.

 

Lost in thought, Harry considers the past few days and tries to comprehend what exactly happened. Essentially Louis helped him through his heat so he wouldn’t die like Dr. Clark said he would, and that was that. Niall, Liam, and Zayn, however, seem to think that this is the first step of their relationship. Which it isn’t.

 

Harry and Louis haven’t discussed anything even near the term _relationship_ , but he’s pretty sure they’re on the same page. At least, he thinks they are. Harry is too damaged right now to be courted, mated, and bonded, and honestly he doesn’t even know anything about Louis and has no evidence to support any theory that Louis might actually like him in that way. So far all he’s done is his job, which just so happens to be caring for Harry. Aside from that there has been nothing out of bounds. Even knotting Harry was just an act of caring for him—making sure he was safe, not in too much pain, and not about to die. When it came down to it, boiled down to nothing, Louis was just doing his job.

 

And Harry is fine with that. Honestly. He understands that he’s here because of the AORS, and he understands that Louis is taking care of him because it’s literally his job. Naturally, of course he’s going to develop feelings for the alpha who has been so kind to him, the alpha who warmed him up from the icy lake and let him sleep in his bedroom, the alpha who knotted Harry to make his heat more bearable, and so on. It’s just biology. Stupid as it is, he can chalk up the flutter in his heart and the churning in his stomach to simple alpha-omega biological attraction. So the flutter and the churning don’t bother him, or worry him in the slightest. Kind of.

 

And… he has no idea where he’s going from here, how long he’ll stay here, and where he’ll be in a week or two. He knows Louis said he’ll maybe stay for the summer until his bondmark fades at least a little, but Harry isn’t sure if Louis was being serious or just saying that. The omega also knows he needs to talk to his family and he should probably be with them right now, under the care of his mother, but just as Louis guessed last night he’s afraid to see them again because he just knows they’re going to expect him to be the person he used to be, and the hard truth is that he’s just not.

 

Harry doesn’t really know who he is, but he knows for sure he isn’t the bubbly bright omega he used to be. Those days are long gone and they ended the night he was forced to bond with a complete monster, taken away from his friends and family and all he’s ever loved.

 

He no longer has hopes for the future—no expectations of finding a mate, bonding, having kids, any of that. Especially with the sudden news that he isn’t fertile and thus has no ability to get pregnant, in the past few days he’s seen his future waste away completely.

 

He used to be so… excited. So ready for anything. Enthusiastic and blindly optimistic. Stupidly staying out late even though he knew his heat was fast approaching, because he felt invincible. There was only one thing that could bring him down, and that was the exact thing that happened. Being attacked, raped, enslaved… Stolen away from all he ever loved. Without a hint of denial Harry could easily say that moment ruined him for good. He will never look at the world the same again.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

“You okay Harry?” Louis asks, immediately upon entering the living room. His eyes land on where Harry is sitting curled up, bundled beneath layers upon layers of blankets. He looks concerned as always, eyes nervous, brow furrowed, and the alpha’s worry makes Harry’s heart hurt.

 

“Yeah, just cold,” Harry answers, eyes shifting from the view of the lake to the blank TV, and back again.

 

“Shit, I’m sorry, you could’ve come in my room-“

 

“It’s fine. Really it’s fine.”

 

“Now I feel bad,” Louis pouts rounding the coffee table to sit beside Harry on the couch. He opens his arms invitingly and encourages Harry to come closer.

 

Of course Harry obliges, because even if he had any hesitations about being near Louis he wouldn’t have any self-control anyways. He sheds a few layers of blankets and then slides closer to the alpha, leaning into his arms and pressing his face to his warm chest, breathing in his calming, sleep scent.

 

“Sleep well?”

 

“Yeah, you?”

 

“Mhm. Between the hot tub and the lake I was _very_ relaxed. We should definitely do that more often.”

 

“Mhm,” Harry echoes, agreeing mindlessly as he lifts his head up and sniffs Louis’ neck without thinking. Before he knows what he’s doing, he has his nose pressed to the alpha’s scent gland, and his arms wrapped around him like he’s afraid he’s going to run away.

 

It makes Louis laugh, especially when Harry’s breath tickles him. “Like how I smell, omega?” He teases, obviously knowing the answer is yes.

 

Harry answers anyways, sinking deeper into Louis’ hold and realizing he doesn’t want to ever let go.

 

“Listen, um, I was thinking of calling your mum today?”

 

The omega pulls away, startled. “Really?”

 

“I mean, there’s no real reason to wait. We talked about it last night, so I thought… You’re still okay with it, right?”

 

“Yeah- I just. Yeah,” Harry doesn’t mention the ugly, nervous feeling curling in his stomach right now.

 

“Do you want to be in the room when I do it?”

 

“Not particularly, no.”

 

“Okay then. I’m gonna do it soon because time zones and all that. Now did you have something to eat for breakfast?” He asks all concerned, like a good alpha.

 

Harry tells him about the toast and jam he had, seeing it eases Louis’ mind for him to know that Harry is relatively nourished and fine at the moment. It makes the corners of Harry’s mouth curl up a little bit at the thought.

 

“You’re feeling okay though? All is good? Nothing hurts?” Louis inquires, leaning forward like he’s trying to inspect Harry for visible wounds or something. Harry allows him to do it, knowing it will probably calm him down a bit.

 

When Harry responds his voice is weak. “Just the typical stuff. Stomach. Bondmark. All that.”

 

The alpha’s face visibly falls. “Oh, I thought maybe going through heat would make you feel better.”

 

“I mean, I guess it did, maybe a little…” Harry lies. Everything hurts just the same except now his bum is a little sore from Louis’ knot.

 

Louis frowns and pulls him closer, back into his arms. He grabs the TV remote and turns it on, flicking to a channel with cheesy movies playing all the time before cuddling the omega in his arms. He tentatively slips his hands beneath Harry’s jumper and presses them lightly to the space in between his hipbones, right where the uncomfortable feeling resides. He rubs his fingers back and forth in a delicate pattern, and it feels so good Harry closes his eyes and leans his head back on Louis’ shoulder, trying to convey his pleasure.

 

“So on a scale of one to ten how was your heat?”

 

“Huh?” Harry asks, startled.

 

“I like feedback,” Louis mutters by way of explanation.

 

“Ummmm, good I guess…”

 

“That’s not a number, though.”

 

Harry thinks about it. Like really, truly thinks about it. He considers the constant pain he’s been in and how it got worse when his heat started. He thinks about the days leading up to it when he hid in his nest and cried to himself because he hates his life more than anything. He thinks about Louis inviting him to his bedroom, and the subsequent hours he spent with his nose in the alpha’s pillow, smothered in the comforting scent of Louis.

 

Then he thinks of when his heat really started and he was all needy and desperate, and Louis did his best to sate him, even through the pain. He thinks of all the sweet kisses and careful touches, the tentative questions of _is this okay?_ and _does this feel good?_ just to make sure Harry was on board and consenting to what was going on. The way Louis always did exactly what Harry wanted without even having to ask—how he just somehow knew, intuitively, what needed to be done in order to satisfy the omega.

 

He thinks of the time spent in the shower with Louis doing a million things at once—holding Harry up, fucking him against the wall, keeping them beneath the spray of water, making sure they didn’t slip, and so on—just to take care of Harry because it was what he needed. Then when Louis dried them off and slipped Harry into bed, cuddling up to him to keep him warm and happy. And every moment after that when Louis fucked him even through his exhaustion, giving him sips of water and bites of food in between rounds. The way he kissed Harry just to please him, when his knot was still locking them together and they could’ve been napping but he knew Harry wasn’t going to fall asleep anytime soon, so he chose to stay up too just to make sure the omega was okay.

 

But then of course he remembers the pain he felt during his heat and how it seemed never-ending, like it was going to suffocate him before it even waned in the slightest. The constant sick feeling in his stomach, the aching in his pelvis, and the burning in his bondmark… all of it added together had made him dizzy with pain, and in a way it felt like a personalized brand of torture.

 

Heats are supposed to be fun and enjoyable and full of pleasure, but lately for Harry they’ve just been awful. In fact, now that he thinks about it he can’t really remember spending a single heat that actually went well.

 

In the beginning when he first presented, he was so ashamed of everything and he spent the week alone in his bedroom, crying to himself because this was his life now and there was nothing to do about it. He hated the weakness and the helplessness, but especially he hated the way how he didn’t fit in—how no one ever expected him to be an omega because he just doesn’t look like it. He’s too tall and thin and ugly to be an omega, and when he first presented he hadn’t realized it yet, but there was this tiny piece of him that, deep down, knew he would never find someone to truly love him.

 

The rest of his heats he spent alone because he’s never had a serious mate and even then he’s always been too embarrassed to even consider finding someone to spend it with him.

 

Then, of course, was that awful day more than half a year ago when Harry cut it too close and was out alone late at night when his stupid omega pheromones were going crazy and probably everyone in the entire city of Cleveland could smell him. He was only a few steps away from his car when the alpha slammed him against the wall and ordered him to be quiet and still as he bit into his neck and groped his ass, slipping his fingers below the waistband of Harry’s jeans and slipping his fingers in harshly right then and there… Harry remembers the action making him feel so sick he would’ve thrown up if he had had anything in his stomach, but he had skipped lunch that day because his heat always made him slightly nauseous…

 

That heat, spent with Harry’s alpha, would most definitely go down in history as the worst heat he’s ever experienced. Not just because he was forced and because he was raped, but because of that small, ugly part of him in the center of his very being that might’ve even _enjoyed_ it. Because when it came down to it, Harry;s omega was happy to have a knot, no matter the alpha apparently. So on top of the insane fear was a new feeling—the feeling of self-disgust. The feeling of shame at the knowledge that even as he was shaking with terror there was a part of his body that wanted this—no, not only wanted, but _craved_ this. Nothing in the world would ever be worse than that feeling. That feeling of utter self-loathing. The desire to hurt himself in a million irreversible ways because he was so horrified but that primal drive within him to be objectified, to be taken advantage of, to be knotted by a monster…

 

So Harry thinks of all of this when Louis asks him a simple, teasing question. He has his answer ready finally so he opens his mouth and spills it out. “Five out of ten.”

 

Louis raises his eyebrows. “That bad?”

 

“No, no- That’s good. The best I’ve ever had.”

 

“And you give it a five out of ten?” Louis clarifies, still confused.

 

“I mean, it was really, really painful, so. Everything you did was perfect but I was still in a lot of pain.”

 

Louis frowns at that. Harry has the stupid desire to kiss the frown off his face. He contains it, and presses his palms flat against his thighs, clenching his fists tightly to stave off the urge.

 

“I’m sorry,” Louis whispers, squeezing Harry tight in his arms like it’ll somehow protect him from every wretched, monstrous thing in the world.

 

“It’s fine. Like I said you did everything perfectly, so thank you. I’m not really sure how those things are supposed to go but I can imagine if I wasn’t in pain it might be quite fun.”

 

“Yeah,” Louis says quietly, “you’re right. So what do you mean you don’t know how these things go? I thought you’ve been with alphas before..?”

 

Harry feels his cheeks heat up, even as he tries to remain calm and unashamed. Yet again his body betrays him. He can’t believe they’re discussing his sex life right now. “I hadn’t ever spent my heat with anyone until… you know… so I really don’t know how it’s supposed to go. But I’ve heard that um, being knotted by your bondmate is one of the most pleasurable things an O can experience. I mean I guess I did go through that but it was different because I was just really really scared and didn’t have time to think about anything else.”

 

The alpha nods thoughtfully, eyes on the lake outside and the way the leaves of the trees sway in the wind. “Yeah, I’ve heard that too.”

 

Harry swallows thickly and doesn’t say anything else.

 

“Well, don’t worry little omega, you’ll have that someday. And soon probably,” Louis smiles softly at him like he’s saying something reassuring and hopeful but all Harry hears is _maybe you’ll find an alpha to bond with someday but it’s not gonna be me._ Harry tries not to let his heart ache at the notion but it does anyways.

 

_God dammit. Fuck everything,_ the omega groans internally. He has no idea what’s going on with the feelings inside his chest and honestly he kind of just wants everything to stop for a moment so he can catch his breath and try to keep up with the maelstrom of thoughts inside his mind and feelings inside his chest.

 

“Five out of ten overall but ten out of ten for you,” Harry says eventually, not being able to help himself.

 

“Okay, good, I’m glad,” Louis laughs, again sounding like tiny bells pealing. For a moment Harry thinks he could listen to this sound forever, but then he shakes his head and doesn’t let his crazy mind think that again.

 

“You’re a good alpha,” Harry adds, because apparently he can’t contain himself from saying inappropriate things he has no business saying.

 

Louis is still smiling though so Harry thinks maybe everything is okay. The alpha kisses him on the cheek as a thanks for the compliment and then goes back to watching the cheesy movie on TV. Harry stares at him for a while, at his bright blue eyes and summer tan skin, and the way his hands are still on Harry’s stomach, fingers rubbing in small comforting circles, and for a while all Harry can think is that he wants Louis’ hands there all the time, for twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

 

_He is so fucked._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's that...
> 
> Thanks for your patience, for being the best people ever, and for leaving really long sweet comments that make me smile so hard. I know sometimes I take forever to respond but trust me I read them, it's just because I'm so overwhelmed and can't think of a good enough response. Every time I get a comment notification my heart melts a little in the best way.
> 
> Again sorry for the wait but I hope this was worth it. I'm gonna try to get something else out in the next 24 hours as a gift for the holidays, so you should come scream at me on [tumblr](http://angelichl.tumblr.com/ask) to write if I don't post anything new haha. But seriously never hesitate to come talk to me about anything (also I need new fic recommendations so if you've read anything good lately you should tell me - I'll read any trope as long as it's larry)
> 
> Lastly if you like this it will mean a lot to me if you [reblog the fic post](http://angelichl.tumblr.com/post/168648843544/somewhere-far-away-from-here-by-angelichl-harry-is).
> 
> Happy holidays!
> 
> Adri


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my Christmas gift to you. Happy holidays <3

THIS YEAR I finally admit it out loud.  
The social worker asks me why I didn’t confront you about it,  
as though it’s as simple as asking someone the time,  
as though it’ as simple as looking the devil in the eye  
and asking why they ripped your nonexistent innocence away.  
AND THIS YEAR I’m tripping in the streets, drunk and crying about what you did to me.  
And my best friend is holding me up,  
telling me it’s okay  
and that I didn’t ask for it,  
I asked for it, didn’t I?  
Sharing my fears,  
I’M SCARED I’M ONLY GOOD FOR ONE THING,  
google search: how to be untaught that you’re only good for one thing.  
AND THIS YEAR I wish I could say recovery had me under its wings,  
that it didn’t hurt anymore,  
but I still can’t look at myself in the mirror sometimes,  
I still feel the ghost of your hands,  
I still can’t love myself when you took that part of me with you.

_— deadwatered.tumblr.com_

 

 

 

Later that day, after Louis rubs Harry’s tummy and asks him questions to make sure he’s okay, Harry offers to do everyone’s laundry.

 

As he does, Louis stares at Harry with his mouth open in shock.

 

“You want… to do. The laundry..?”

 

“Um, yes..?”

 

“I mean, okay, I guess. I’m not going to stop you…”

 

This, of course, makes Harry smile. He stands up from the couch, Louis’ hands falling from where they had slipped up beneath his jumper, and he heads downstairs to the laundry room. Immediately he starts emptying the washer and moving Zayn’s wet clothes to the dryer. Then he goes over to the various baskets of dirty clothes and sniffs out which one belongs to Louis.

 

It’s the far one in the corner, so as he’s lifting clothes out of the bin and checking the pockets for gum or money, he brings each item to his nose and tries to determine which one smells best—coincidentally, the one that smells best is the one that smells the most like Louis. He knows it’s very weird and pretty gross, rifling through someone’s dirty clothes, but he really needs new material for his nest and lately he’s been craving Louis’ scent.

 

Last night when he was trying to fall asleep in the dark, cramped closet, he realized the only item of Louis’ he really had was the t-shirt, and even then it’s beginning to lose its scent because Harry cuddles with it so much. Everything else Harry scented himself, which is fine and everything, but lately something’s been different and Harry has been wanting to smell Louis all the damn  time, even when he’s sleeping.

 

He thinks back to the first few days he was here and begins laughing. The first night Louis had scented him to calm him down, and before bed Harry had desperately tried to lick the scent off himself because he didn’t want to smell like anything foreign or different. At the time, the only comforting smell was his own scent.

 

But now, here he is, offering to do the laundry not only because it calms him, but also because he wants to find something of Louis’ he can take without the alpha noticing. It’s a big change and it kind of strikes Harry all at once, and he isn’t expecting it, so he finishes up with the laundry, adding in the vanilla detergent and then closing the lid and pressing start. Then he sinks down to the floor, back sliding against the wall, Louis’ jumper in hand, and realizes he has no idea what the fuck he’s doing.

 

It doesn’t matter, though. He has so many things to think about—so many problems he needs to fix by making decisions—but instead he opts to ignore it all and just sit on the floor of the laundry room, listening to the clothes spin in the washer, nose buried in the soft jumper in his arms.

 

So he decidedly doesn’t think about anything. He ignores the impending necessity of speaking to his family again and even going home with them eventually. He ignores the memory of the alpha whose jumper is in his arms and instead just enjoys the scent. He ignores the constant burning feeling in his neck and the stupid ache in his stomach.

 

He ignores everything in favor of staring at the washing machine and listening as it churns the clothes, mixing them with water and vanilla to get them clean.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

Back upstairs a little while later, he’s surprised to see Louis talking on the phone. So surprised, in fact, that he trips over his own feet on the top step and falls backwards down the stairs, banging into the wall and sending a loud sound reverberating through the otherwise quiet house.

 

“Shit, are you okay?” He hears Louis ask, and when he looks up he sees his hand cupping the speaker on the phone.

 

Harry gives an affirmative and stands up slowly, holding the railing now as he makes his way back up the stairs. He hit his head pretty hard and they will almost definitely be an annoying bump soon to form. His back hurts too, from the way he landed all crumpled-up.

 

Louis is still talking on the phone though and he wonders if he’s speaking to Harry’s mum or his sister, so he approaches Louis on the couch and makes eye contact with him, silently asking if he can stay in the room and listen. The alpha nods, understanding the question and patting the spot beside him on the couch for Harry to sit. He does, and tries not to be shocked when Louis throws an arm over his shoulder and pulls him in tightly.

 

“Yeah, yeah definitely, everything’s okay here… Yeah, for sure…” Louis is saying when he starts carding his fingers through Harry’s hair mindlessly.

 

This goes on for a while and Harry zones out, staring the lake like he always does because it’s just so calming to look at, with the pretty teal water and white sand, and the evergreen trees which line the lake on either side. He really, really likes it here and finds himself unable to imagine ever leaving. Which is, to say the least, very bad, since he’s going to have to leave, and soon in fact.

 

Harry stays zoned out until Louis stills beneath his touch, his mood and demeanor changing suddenly. His back is more rigid and he retracts his hand from Harry’s hair, pulling it back to his lap and staring at the floor with a frown.

 

“Um, I’m not sure- I’m not sure that’s a good idea-“ Louis says, a bit adamantly, and it’s quite clear he’s being cut off by the way he stutters and taps his fingers on his thighs with impatient frustration. “No- He’s here because he wants to be, not because- That was his decision, I’m here to make sure he’s okay, not to tell him what to do-“ He groans frustratedly, lifting his hand and dragging it down his face slowly. “No, I promise you he’s- I promise you he’s _fine_ , if you would just-“

 

Louis stares at his phone in horror before turning to Harry with a stunned look on his face. “Your mum just hung up on me.”

 

“ _Oh_.”

 

“Yeah. Well, that could’ve gone a lot better I suppose.”

 

Harry stares at him for a while and doesn’t look away until after Louis turns his attention to him and gives him a weak smile.

 

“I don’t think your mum likes me very much,” Louis admits, face turning into a bit of a smirk. Harry thinks he’s just trying to cover up his grimace. Louis seems like one of those alphas who wants to be liked by everyone.

 

“Is she mad at me?” Harry asks quietly, voicing the question that’s been on his mind, not just for weeks now but for months. He can’t explain why he’s been so afraid of speaking to his family again; all he knows is that he _is_ afraid. He is, and it hurts a lot, to know that he doesn’t even really have his own family to fall back on.

 

“Of course she’s not mad at you, Harry, don’t even think like that. And if she was I’d be so pissed, you don’t even know. There’s nothing for her to be mad at you about.”

 

“Yes there is.”

 

“Oh? And what is it, then?”

 

“It’s been almost three weeks and I still haven’t called her. I should be back home by now or something.”

 

“Do you want to go home?”

 

“No,” Harry answers honestly, feeling a little shy. He doesn’t know how long rescued omegas usually stay with them, and he knows it can’t be longer than a month. Except there’s a part of Harry that wants to stay here forever.

 

“Well, then, there’s your answer.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“ _Harry_ ,” Louis says seriously, grasping Harry’s shoulders and giving him a small gentle shake for emphasis. “This is your life. _Yours_. Not anyone else’s. You’re allowed to live how you want and that means deciding when and where. You’re an adult now and not even your own mother can tell you what to do or where to be. Got it?”

 

“Okay,” he breathes, caught off guard by Louis’ intensity.

 

He doesn’t exactly agree but he pretends he does anyways. As an omega he really doesn’t have his own life like Louis does as an alpha. Yes, he can make his own decisions and decide where he wants to be, but really the purpose of his entire existence is to serve and care for others. It’s messed up and wicked but it’s true. Why else would he be completely helpless to alpha commands if he wasn’t designed to be subservient by nature?

 

A year ago he used to think the opposite, and even though he embraced his gender he was a little rebellious towards the aspect of living to serve people. But now, with everything that has happened, and all the things he’s learned about the dynamics between genders, he kind of finds himself submitting to the gender roles he’s been assigned. He doesn’t necessarily want to but it happens anyways. And when he really thinks about it, he knows submitting is just in his nature.

 

Anyways, Louis is looking at him like he knows what’s going on in Harry’s mind right now. It’s kind of frightening so Harry looks away for a distraction. His eyes land on the lake again as they always do and he turns to Louis, finally, asking, “How would you feel about kayaking?”

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

Louis paddles again while Harry sits on the back of the lime green kayak. It’s windier today, so they start by heading out towards the horizon, going into the wind so it’ll be easier when they turn around. Once they’re about three hundred meters from the beach, Louis angles them so they’re paddling parallel to the shore.

 

Harry likes sitting on the back of the kayak because it means he can just relax and let Louis do all the work as Harry admires the view around him. The view, which is not only limited to the crystal clear water of the lake, but also includes Louis’ sun-tanned biceps as he paddles and propels them forward. As he moves the oars through the water his muscles tense and relax in a calming rhythm that has Harry transfixed.

 

Harry lets his feet drag in the cold water as they travel further and further down the shoreline, away from the house. He’s is surprised to find that aside from the house, there isn’t a single building for miles. Just trees and trees and trees. He knew they were secluded but didn’t really understand how secluded until seeing it like this, with the entire world spread out around him and no one else around. Maybe the thought should frighten him, but instead it just makes him feel safe. Like he’s in his own little bubble that includes Louis and no one else, really, and it’s kind of scary to think that he never wants to leave.

 

The house on Lake Michigan has transformed into the equivalent of Harry’s secret nest back in the apartment by the river. He feels safe like he felt in that nest, except now he doesn’t just feel safe in one small area between the walls—he feels safe everywhere. _Anywhere Louis is_ , his mind whispers quietly.

 

They go out for an hour and then eventually decide to turn back around, because Harry is getting a bit hungry and Louis says he is too. The wind has changed directions a bit and gotten stronger, so it’s not as easy to get back as they originally anticipated. In fact it turns out quite difficult.

 

“Jesus,” Louis gasps as the side of the kayak is carried by a large wave and aggressive gust of wind, crashing into a protruding rock. Harry quickly pulls his leg up but as he does so his shin gets scraped a little by the jagged rock and starts bleeding. He doesn’t say anything because he knows Louis will get angry—not at Harry but at the situation in general and maybe even at himself. In order to maintain the balance of the kayak, he scoots his bum forward and wraps his legs around Louis’ ribcage, giggling when the alpha lets out a loud laugh even through his frustration.

 

“Alright back there?” Louis asks, because he’s always checking up on Harry to make sure he’s safe and okay and happy. Always always always. It leaves a warm feeling in the omega’s gut as he pulls himself even closer, pressing his hips to Louis’ back and buries his nose in his hair which is slightly damp from the spray of the waves. He smells nice, as always, like his usual fragrance of pine trees and alpha, mixed with sunscreen and lake water.

 

“Yeah, good,” Harry affirms, looking around a little bit. They’ve traveled much closer to the shore due to the augmenting waves, and the back of the kayak where Harry is sitting is dipping low into the water, so much so that every time a wave comes by it slides right over the back and gets Harry wet. “Except I think we’re sinking.”

 

“Sinking?” Louis whips around, bewildered. His eyes land on the back point of the kayak which is slowly becoming more and more submerged in the icy water. Harry, still clinging to the alpha like a koala bear, admires him from the close-up view—the way the afternoon sunshine glistens on his eyelashes and turns his tan skin golden. “Oh shit.”

 

“Oh shit,” Harry agrees, still laughing as they start sinking down at less laxidazical rate.

 

“Harry your leg is bleeding!” Louis shrieks upon seeing his bloodied leg mixing with the water and tainting the space around them red. “What the fuck!”

 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he promises, urging the alpha to start paddling again. Louis complies, still looking at Harry’s leg worriedly, moving his arms at a faster pace and propelling them forward. It’s difficult as the waves continue to relentlessly shove them closer and closer to shore with every cycle. Harry kicks his feet in the water to help but he’s certain it doesn’t do anything to help and might even slow them down a bit.

 

They must look ridiculous, out on the lake, kayaking close to the shore where the water is only five feet deep at most and both of them can stand easily, as they shriek about how they’re sinking. They’re both laughing hysterically as Louis powers forward with the oars.

 

They aren’t making any ground, however, and at one point Louis just stops suddenly and squirms out of the kayak. He collapses into the water and of course the loss of equilibrium sends the kayak tipping over and Harry falls right underneath the waves, not even expecting it so he has no time to close his mouth from his laughter.

 

He resurfaces above the waves spluttering out water, laughing his ass off and wiping lake water from his eyes. When he looks up Louis is launching forward towards him and encompassing him in a hug—presumably to keep the omega warm in the cold water. He _is_ shivering.

 

“Oh my god I can’t believe that happened,” Louis groans, rubbing his hands up and down Harry arms, leaving pleasant tingles in his wake. “Are you okay?”

 

Harry nods in affirmative and sinks into Louis’ hold, obediently letting the alpha warm him up like it’s probably instinctual to do. He stands with his feet pressed together in the sand while Louis has his stance with his legs spread wide on either side of Harry’s legs. It makes the omega a lot taller than the alpha in this case, the height difference more defined than it usually is. Normally Harry would be embarrassed and maybe even try to worsen his posture in order to appear like the smaller, daintier omega he wishes he was, but not right now. Not when Louis is holding him tightly to warm him up and not even paying attention, like none of it matters at all. And maybe it doesn’t.

 

They stand in the shoulder-high water for a while, beneath the slowly sinking sun, just swaying with the waves and enjoying the feeling of their bodies together. Harry should definitely feel cold right now, but he doesn’t. Not when he’s pressed up against an alpha who makes him happy and nervous all at the same time. The good kind of nervous—the nervous he feels like a twirl in his gut and a flutter in his heart. Nervous because he likes Louis a lot and Louis is an alpha who seems to like Harry enough to really take care of him.

 

Eventually Harry starts shivering despite the alpha-warmth radiating off of the alpha hugging him, and they trudge out of the lake onto the shore with Louis tugging the sunken kayak behind him. Harry is cold in the wind, goosebumps rising on his skin, but Louis holds his hand the entire walk back so he thinks it’s okay. The simple touch alone sends his heart doing excited flips in his chest, and he knows it’s all biological and hormonal, just because a nice alpha is taking care of him and holding his hand, but he enjoys the feeling anyways.

 

It takes nearly an hour to walk all the way back to the house with Louis tugging the kayak behind him which is surprisingly heavy. They talk a lot about random things, and Louis tells Harry the story of when he first presented.

 

“Everyone thought I was going to be an O,” he says, smiling up at Harry. His voice is sweet and teasing. “Can you imagine that? If I was all meek and quiet like you are?”

 

Harry squeaks out a startled laugh, trying to imagine Louis as an omega. He just can’t picture it. Louis may be small and pleasingly curvy with his wider hips and really nice bum, but the only aspect to him that actually fits omega standards is his short stature and omega-like figure. From there, the similarities stop. Louis is loud and dominant and not in a bad way. With a ton of little siblings, he’s played the role of big brother, caretaker, and leader all his life. He has the desire to protect others and even does it for a living—he protects people as his career. Not that omegas don’t protect people, but Louis is very alpha-like in the way that he is more protective than he is possessive.

 

Harry is the opposite—more possessive than protective, which is an omega trait. Of course he wants the people he loves to be safe, but the even larger driving need is for them to be his and his alone. He gets jealous easily. Though jealousy hasn’t been much of a factor for most of his life, he feels jealousy blossoming recently as he thinks about all the omegas Louis has saved in the past through the AORS. Whenever Harry remembers he is just like any other omega rescued by Louis’ team, he has to quickly push the thought away before he falls into quiet despair. The omega part of Harry wants Louis all to himself. He knows it’s selfish and awful but he just can’t help it.

 

“I can’t imagine you as an omega,” Harry admits, trying his hardest to imagine Louis as someone who is compliant and subservient. He has so much leadership and charisma that it nearly seems impossible to imagine Louis submitting to someone else, walking two steps behind them in public and never speaking unless he’s spoken to directly.

 

“I know, right?” Louis sighs. “You, on the other hand, are an amazing omega. You’re always so patient and sweet. I could never do that.”

 

“What-“ Harry splutters, eyes wide. He feels this is very important to make this clarification and maybe even show Louis how thankful he is for everything he has done so far. “What do you mean? Lou- You’re literally always so kind and tolerant with me no matter what, even when I’m being insane and have no reason to freak out or mope around.”

 

His words make Louis smile sadly. “You’re not insane, H, don’t say that.” Of course he chooses to comment on the least relevant part of Harry’s adamant statement.

 

“And you’re not impatient,” Harry retorts.

 

“Fine, whatever. But you can agree that I’d suck at following orders, right?”

 

“Right. Well, I suck at being an omega but here I am.”

 

“You _do not_ suck at being an omega, Harry, don’t say that. I already told you, you’re perfect.”

 

“No, seriously, I look nothing like an O.”

 

Louis stops walking and drops the kayak. “What the fuck, Harry. What does an omega even look like?”

 

“Short, curvy, cute, pretty…” He waves his hand vaguely through the air.

 

Louis raises his eyebrows, lifting a hand to Harry’s shoulder. “You don’t think you’re pretty?”

 

Harry shifts his eyes away, feeling slightly uncomfortable. It’s a touchy topic that strikes way too close to his core insecurities, and immediately the need to escape the conversation overwhelms him. He tries his best to ignore the urge to flee, swallowing thickly and saying, “I’m not short, curvy, cute, or omega-like in any way, and therefore I am not pretty.”

 

The alpha retracts his hands in favor of placing them on his hips. “Seriously, Harry, you really believe that?”

 

“I mean, yes..?”

 

“You’re ridiculous,” Louis mutters, wrapping his fingers around Harry’s wrist and tugging him up the stairs quickly. Harry doesn’t understand what’s going on, but he presses his lips together and remains silent as Louis washes the sand off their feet with the hose and then hands him a towel. “Go inside and warm up in the shower, okay? Then meet me in my room so we can talk about how pretty you are.”

 

Harry stares at him blankly for a long moment, confused, but eventually his inner omega wins over and he really has no choice but to follow Louis’ orders.

 

In the shower he thinks about Louis and how he says his family thought he would before an omega, but when he presented as an alpha everyone was surprised. He tries to imagine a world where Louis is less authoritative and protective but he really can’t think of it. It’s just that everything about him is so confident and warm and safe, and it makes it very difficult for Harry to imagine him as anything but an alpha, even despite his physical features.

 

Harry dresses in pink pajama shorts and a cozy jumper before joining Louis in his room. His feet are bare as they pad down the world floor of the hallway to the master bedroom, and he knocks on the door hesitantly, unsure of exactly what to do and why he’s here. Louis calls him in with a warm voice, and he sounds so lovely and inviting, causing Harry’s hesitations to flutter away as he steps inside and closes the door behind him.

 

The sliding glass door that overlooks the lake is pushed open, so the late-afternoon breeze floods in and ruffles the dream catcher above the bed. Louis is pulling on a pair of socks when Harry enters, and he sends a closed-lipped smile towards the omega in welcome.

 

“Come sit with me,” he invites, sliding back on the bed and sitting cross-legged. He pats the spot in front of him so Harry obliges and mirrors his position.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey.” The alpha straightens his spine and places his palms on his knees. “So. I hear you don’t think you look like an omega. I also hear you don’t think you’re pretty.”

 

“Umm-“

 

“Is that true?” Louis presses, staring very deeply into the omega’s eyes. It makes Harry blush as he looks away, fidgeting in his seat. Of course he knows it’s true because Harry told him just an hour ago, but clearly he wants to hear Harry say it. “Look at me,” the alpha orders softly, his voice carrying with the wind, barely heard above the enthusiastic waves outside.

 

Harry meets Louis’ eyes to the best of his ability and nods slowly. He curves his neck, dipping his chin towards his chest, and plays with the sleeves of his jumper nervously.

 

The alpha hums in response, grasping Harry’s hands in his own. His skin feels warm and soft and lovely as he squeezes tightly in reassurance.

 

“Well, I disagree. I think you are very beautiful and omega-like. But before I tell you why, I have to preface this with something very important, okay? I need you to understand.” He waits until Harry nods before he continues. “Looks mean nothing. Beauty, or lack thereof, is completely unimportant and has nothing to do with who you are as a person. I know you had an asshole alpha who made you think the person you are isn’t good enough, but I need you to know that he’s wrong. Completely, one-hundred percent wrong. Got it?”

 

Harry nods numbly, face feeling hot with a mix of embarrassment and shame—plus an added amount of humiliation due to the fact that he needs someone to tell him he’s an okay enough omega because his self-esteem is so low he can’t even survive as a normal human being without the affirmation.

 

“Okay. We’re gonna play a game now. The first part is this: we hold hands and you tell me everything you don’t like about yourself, okay? Be honest, and you have to look into my eyes.”

 

Uh oh. Harry doesn’t like this very much. In fact he has the very plain urge to drop Louis’ hands and run for the hills, screaming all the way.

 

Louis gives Harry’s hands a squeeze. “Go on.”

 

Harry swallows thickly, eyes flitting around the room to search for a way out of this. But Louis is looking at him with that soft expression on his face, his forehead relaxed and his lips curved downward in a slight frown. To add to the situation, they’re sitting on the very king-sized bed which Harry spent his entire heat in. His heat, which consisted of the alpha across from him knotting Harry every time he asked.

 

The memories Harry has of this bed cause his blush to increase to the point where he can literally feel his cheeks heating up and turning bright red. He thinks of Louis—all of him, his fingers, his tongue, his knot—and it makes him dizzy.

 

“I don’t look like an omega,” he answers finally, voice very quiet. It’s a wonder Louis hears him over the wind, the waves, and the rustling of the trees.

 

“Be more specific,” Louis advises. “And look at me, okay? Please look at me.”

 

Harry shifts his gaze back and sighs, getting a little lost in the blueness of Louis’ eyes. They’re so pale and pretty, but stormy in a subtle way, resembling the lake outside.

 

“I’m too tall…”

 

Louis quirks a smile. “Says who?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Who is telling you you’re too tall?”

 

“Ummm, everyone? Society? My alpha? I don’t know.”

 

Louis purses his lips at the mention of Harry’s alpha. “What if I told you you aren’t too tall?”

 

“You’d be lying, then.” He doesn’t know why Louis is doing this—why Louis is being so gentle and kind with him. Harry knows who he is. He knows he’s ugly and stupid and a poor excuse for an omega. He knows he’s weak and infertile and essentially incompetent as a member of his own gender. He knows he hates himself and he knows it isn’t hard for others to see why, despite the way Louis is treating him right now, as if he doesn’t understand Harry’s deep self-hatred.

 

“I like how tall you are, though. Your legs are so long so you trip over them a lot and it’s very cute. I like that you’re taller than _me_ , too. Because when we hug, _I_ get to be the one to put my face in your neck, which is a really nice change, actually.”

 

Harry bites the inside of his cheek, his stomach swirling. What Louis just said is possibly the nicest comment anyone has ever made about his height in his entire life. Usually he just gets snarky remarks like _you’re an omega?_ when he stands up and people see how tall he is.

 

“What else?”

 

“I’m too thin.” It’s very difficult for him to continue staring into the alpha’s piercing eyes. He wants to look away desperately but as an omega his body really won’t let him. Even though Louis didn’t use his alpha voice and it was much more a suggestion than a command, Harry is ruled by the deep-set desire to please and he’s at the point where he’ll do anything to make Louis happy.

 

“You eat enough, though, so you’re not too thin. You’re just the way you’re supposed to be.”

 

“But I don’t look like an omega; I have no curves. My bum is small and my hips are boney and-“

 

“And what?”

 

“And it’s one of the reasons why my body is stupid and I can’t get pregnant, which makes my entire life meaningless, so.”

 

He hadn’t meant for the last part to slip out of his mouth, but it did, and now the words are hanging heavily in the air between them. Not even the wind can blow them away.

 

“Well, for starters your ass is not only very cute but also very amazing. I should know since I spent quite a bit of time with it last week,” Louis smirks, referencing Harry’s heat. It makes Harry groan in embarrassment but he still doesn’t look away from the alpha’s intense, piercing eyes because he knows he isn’t allowed to. “Now, about the fertility thing-“

 

“ _Infertility_ ,” Harry corrects softly.

 

“About the _in_ fertility thing, you don’t know why it is and neither does Dr. Clark so it isn’t fair to blame your bum or your hips or whatever it is you’re blaming. Listen here, Harry Styles, and listen good. Just because you can’t have kids doesn’t mean your life is meaningless. Actually, it doesn’t mean anything, okay? Stop fucking beating yourself up over that, love. You’re an omega but that doesn’t mean your sole purpose in life is to reproduce.”

 

Harry remains quiet and unresponsive. Louis gets frustrated, clearly seeing in Harry’s eyes that he really truly believes he’s worthless for his barrenness.

 

“Harry, what the fuck. Flip the tables, okay? If I acted like you’re acting right now, that means I would have to believe my entire life purpose as an alpha is to knock people up. Now, clearly that’s not true. One of the bigger purposes of my life is to rescue people from abusive situations. That has nothing to do with having babies. But it’s important, right? So just because you’re an omega and you can’t get pregnant doesn’t mean fucking anything, baby. It doesn’t mean anything at all. Just that you can have all the unprotected sex you want and you don’t even have to worry about getting knocked up. It also means if you want to have kids you get to adopt and give homes to children who really need them.”

 

His words are powerful and urgent and so glaringly _logical_ that they make Harry cry. Tears slip out like raindrops and soon he’s sobbing like mad but still looking right into Louis’ eyes because he’s desperately trying to please him, and with the only command he’s received lately is to _look at me_ , it’s the only thing he knows to do.

 

He must look hysterical because Louis immediately drops his hands in favor of cupping Harry’s face with his palms. The alpha uses the pads of his thumbs to wipe Harry’s tears away, like he so often does, but they keep falling anyways.

 

“Baby,” Louis whispers, gently pushing at Harry’s shoulders until he falls back against the soft bed, shoulder blades sinking into the mattress. Louis climbs on top of him, planting his bum right on Harry’s bony hips, and he brackets his arms on either side Harry’s face.

 

The omega feels as though his breath has been knocked out of him when Louis leans down, slow and steady like he’s afraid of spooking him. Carefully, he uses one hand to stroke Harry’s face, the other arm busy keeping him from falling on top of him.

 

He sighs, and, quietly, as though it’s a secret, he says, “I find you so lovely. Lovely and beautiful and so, so kind.”

 

Louis’ lips are dangerously close to Harry’s, but he shifts upwards the slightest bit and begins to lick Harry’s tears away. It’s just like he did all those nights ago, except this time it’s slower and sweeter, in a way, as he licks gently around the omega’s eyes and strokes his face at the same time, keen on comforting him. He drags his thumb along Harry’s jaw bone, and then his chin, and then the curve of his lips. He licks the contrails of Harry’s tears and holds his face close like Harry is something precious.

 

“Do you believe me?” He asks when he pulls away, shifting over to lie on his side beside Harry, propping himself up on his elbow so he can look down at the very sad, very teary omega beneath him.

 

“Believe what?” Harry asks genuinely. He’s a bit dazed from Louis licking away his tears like omegas do—the action so unbelievably kind—even despite his sorrow and despair.

 

“Do you believe I find you lovely? Answer honestly.”

 

He says it like an order, even in his soft, quiet voice, so there’s no room for Harry to lie.

 

Yet, as he says the words—the truth, as they are—he can feel something in the room breaking, something intangible, though the fracture feels corporeal. He whispers, in that stupid, quiet, broken voice.

 

“No, I don’t…”

 

Louis exhales slowly like his hopes are crushed and he shifts his body half over Harry’s, slotting his leg between Harry’s thighs. “Little omega,” he breathes, voice jaded but still sweet and comforting as always. “I don’t know what to do to make you believe.”

 

Harry just shakes his head slowly and keeps his gaze trained on Louis whose face is so close to his own, his eyes are going cross-eyed trying to remain in focus. He smells so heavily like pine needles, it’s making Harry woozy with how good he smells. Vaguely he wonders what he smells like to Louis, but he can imagine it’s on the right side of good by the way Louis groans and buries his face in Harry’s shoulder, inhaling slowly like he’s trying to savor it.

 

“Will you sleep in here tonight?” Louis asks once he’s pulled away, detaching himself from Harry and rolling over on the bed so his head rests on the pillow and he’s staring up at the ceiling. “So I can rub your tummy and keep telling you you’re pretty and worthy until you believe me?”

 

Originally Harry had plans to curl up in his nest for the night, with the new items he nicked from the wash this morning pressed up against his nose, and pretend to be dead. Again that desire to sleep forever washes over him like the waves crashing outside, and he wants to curl up and never move again. He wants to forget about the stupid pain in his stomach and the stupid burning in his bondmark and the stupid way he feels about his own self because he is ridden with nothing but shame and self-disgust. He wants to close his eyes and make the world go away.

 

But Louis is here and asking him to stay, with the promise of rubbing his tummy and telling him kind words. Harry doesn’t necessarily believe the words Louis says to him, but he thinks for once it doesn’t matter, if he gets to satisfy his inner omega a little bit by spending the night in an alpha’s arms, safe and protected from the world and from his own inner turmoil. He thinks that for tonight, at least, he doesn’t want to be alone.

 

All of this is what inspires him to finally say, “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of dialogue in this one.. It's longer than the normal chapters but it still feels really short, sorry! Also I know Harry's healing process is long and grueling so thank you for sticking around.
> 
> As always, you really don't even know how excited I get when I see a comment. The long ones especially make me so happy. I crave feedback even if it's negative, so don't be afraid to criticize my work (you can even comment anonymously if you want). I promise it's okay and I won't take it personally - it's just how I improve as a writer.
> 
> If you like this fic, [reblog the fic post on tumblr](http://angelichl.tumblr.com/post/168648843544/somewhere-far-away-from-here-by-angelichl-harry-is)!
> 
> PS If you get bored of waiting for the next update, you should check out some of my other works ;) [Love is like this; not a heartbeat, but a moan](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12131652) is another A/B/O fic if you're so inclined. :)
> 
> Anyways thanks for reading and merry Christmas!


	11. Chapter 11

“Sometimes people just want to be happy, even if it’s not real.”

_— Veronica Roth, _ Insurgent

 

 

 

Niall makes Kraft macaroni and cheese for dinner, and the five of them eat around the table on the deck outside as the sun sets. They dine with amiable conversation and boisterous laughter that probably scares all the wildlife away, and would definitely disturb the neighbors—if they had any, that is. Yet, the house is so secluded, with no others for miles. To Harry it feels like a safe haven, a little bubble in which he feels protected enough to exist in peace, and though the little bubble may be an unrealistic, even utopian, slice of the rest of the world, it’s nice nonetheless.

 

The table only has four chairs because for so long it has just been the four of them, but Harry isn’t complaining because this means he gets to sit on Louis’ lap as they eat dinner. Louis loops his arms around Harry’s waist and keeps kissing his shoulder and whispering comments about how pretty he looks, saying things like _you’re so gorgeous_ and calling Harry _perfect little omega_. It makes Harry blush like crazy as he tries his hardest to eat his mac and cheese without choking every time Louis pinches his hips or slides his fingertips up beneath Harry’s jumper to rest them on the smooth skin below his navel. He visibly reacts each time Louis does this, flinching slightly even though he doesn’t exactly want the alpha to stop.

 

One of the biggest benefits to sitting so close to Louis is his warmth. As the evening progresses, the sun slowly dipping beneath the horizon and causing sparkles on the water to scintillate like diamonds, the air begins to cool off and the breeze picks up. The others are fine, not even noticing the slight change in temperature, but Niall is bundled up in a mess of blankets and he shares a look with Harry across the table as they make eye contact in solidarity, both of them shivering in the cold. For omegas this is a normal occurrence and just another example of the small adversities they have to overcome every day.

 

But Louis is radiating warmth so Harry takes the opportunity to enjoy his furnace-like qualities as he leans his back against the alpha’s warm chest. Louis doesn’t seem to notice he’s implicitly warming Harry with the way he runs his hands up and down the sides of his arms to create friction. It’s such an alpha thing to do—keeping an omega warm without even thinking about it—that it makes Harry laugh a little. He’s envious because Louis is the perfect embodiment of his own gender and he doesn’t even have to try. Louis doesn’t notice as he continues telling his story about learning to skateboard as a kid, laughing as he recounts his many falls and crashes.

 

They go down to the beach for a sunset walk when the sky is at its brightest colors—coral pink and deep red right near the horizon, fading to purple and finally the darker indigo of the sky above. Louis shows Harry how to look for sea glass, so the five of them find themselves walking slowly and scouring the rocks below their feet, searching for small pieces of purple, green, or brown colored glass.

 

Harry finds a beautiful amber piece that’s weathered from years of crashing waves, smoothing out the glass’s sharp edges so it’s smooth enough to touch without cutting himself. He picks it up at the same time Louis finds a small blue piece the size of a pebble and Harry can’t help himself when he blurts out, “It matches your eyes.”

 

It startles a laugh out of the alpha as he holds the glass up to the light and inspects it. “It’s pretty.”

 

“Like your eyes.”

 

Louis throws his arms around the omega and hugs him tight for a long moment. They’re standing too close to the lake, so when the next wave falls it crashes against their legs, sending water droplets flying, but it’s pleasantly warm from the sun heating it up all day so Harry doesn’t mind very much.

 

“That’s so sappy. You’re too sweet,” Louis tells him, before standing on the tips of his toes to kiss him on the cheek.

 

Later that night, they escape to Louis’ bedroom and curl up beneath the sheets together, feet entangled. The sliding door is opened but the screen is closed, so the room which smells wonderfully like Louis also has the fresh scent of the outdoors, with the lake and the woods and the earth itself. The night crickets are heard above the lull of the waves, chirping in their constant hum and euphony.

 

The wind makes the room cold but beneath the duvet and pressed up against an alpha’s body, the only thing Harry can think about is how pleasantly warm he feels. It goes to his head a little bit as he curls in even closer and presses his nose to Louis’ neck, beginning to feel dizzy with Louis’ scent. Dizzy with arousal, even.

 

He’s been pretty good lately about not getting turned on when he’s too close to Louis. Most of it has to do with the fact that at any given moment he’s in constant but excruciating pain, which is a mood killer at best, constantly keeping his arousal in check. There’s no room for him to think about much other than his pain and his fear, so usually it isn’t a problem except for when they wake up together with morning wood and then awkwardly shuffle around each other until someone finally gets up to take care of himself in the shower.

 

But right now Harry is warm and happy and he hasn’t been in too much pain all day, though he isn’t sure why. Louis is carding his fingers through Harry’s hair and talking about how he wants to go on a mini road trip tomorrow, rambling about sand dunes and hiking and a million other things. Harry tries his hardest to listen but he feels himself getting dizzy underneath Louis’ touch—hell, he can even smell his own arousal as it blossoms and tints his scent with an even stronger floral fragrance that can’t be ignored no matter how hard he tries. He feels the slick leaking out of his bum, soon to make a mess on the sheets, so he regrettably pulls himself up and sighs heavily, shielding his gaze from Louis’ piercing eyes.

 

“Sorry, sorry,” He mutters, pushing away from the bed and heading towards the bathroom. He feels the shame seeping into his bloodstream, the sensation of humiliation overtaking him as it commonly does.

 

Louis sits up in bed, the sheets falling down around him. He smiles softly in the dim light and says, “It’s okay, omega. Do you want help?”

 

Harry’s eyes widen in surprise and he feels so embarrassed so he frantically waves his hands and says, “No, no, I’m fine-“

 

The alpha bites his lip, looking a mix between worried and endeared. It dawns on Harry that he is aroused too, with the way his sylvan scent is stronger now and tinged with burning fires and cinnamon and apple cider, like everything autumnal and enticing. He smoothes his palms on the bed sheets and then stands up, heading for the door, saying, “Let me show you something, then.”

 

Obediently, Harry follows him down the hallway to the closet at the end. Before Louis opens it he turns around and says, “This is going to look so crazy but I’m sure you’ll understand why we need it.” Then he twists the door open and Harry’s eyes land on shelves of towels and sunscreens and other shower supplies. However, the top shelf is different in the way that it holds about every type of lube in the entire world, plus a vast array of dildos still in the packaging.

 

“Oh,” Harry whispers with wide eyes, shifting on his feet uncomfortably. Reasonably, the AORS needs this because they have a lot of omegas here and some may be going through heats and whatnot. This Harry knows, but it doesn’t make the situation any less awkward.

 

Louis grabs his hand and squeezes it tight in reassurance. “You’re allowed to use anything you need, okay?” Then he sighs heavily and steps away to put a larger amount of space between them. “You can use my shower if you want—I know it’s roomier and the water pressure is a lot better, but if you’d rather use the one in the hall that’s fine. And when you’re finished you can come back to bed with me but you don’t have to. Just do whatever you feel comfortable with, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Harry echoes, cheeks flaming wildly. It isn’t until Louis is already back in his room that the omega finally turns back to the closet and picks the bottle of lube that looks the most normal. He has to gather his courage to grab a knotted dildo too, and he clings to that courage when he reenters Louis’ room and heads straight for the en suite, his face on fire. Shame is swallowing him whole and he doesn’t know how to cope with it.

 

Louis smiles softly at him and Harry tries to return it, but his smile probably looks weak at best. He closes the door behind himself quickly, locking it with shaking fingers. Immediately upon entering the bathroom he turns the shower on to give the water time to heat up, all with the benefit of creating a bit of background noise so Louis, who is just outside the door, won’t be able to hear every single thing Harry does.

 

Still, he tries his very best to be as quiet as possible as he undresses in front of the mirror. He always hates looking at his body because he is faced with his mountain of insecurities, most of them to do with his lack of omega-ness. But right now he stares with heavy eyes and tries to figure out what the fuck is going on.

 

A little less than a year ago, Harry was kidnapped and raped. Stolen away from the outside world and hidden in a small apartment by the Cuyahoga River, he lived a life enslaved. Then one day three strangers from a society that rescues abused omegas broke into the flat and freed him. They took him to a house on Lake Michigan, seven hours away, to keep him safe until further notice. He spent almost an entire month there and that’s where he is right now. He’s afraid to contact his family because he doesn’t want to explain the situation to them; he’s afraid they won’t understand. His bondmark is slowly fading and it hurts like hell. Part of him wants to go back to his abusive alpha just to stop the visceral pain and another part of him wants to be bonded by another alpha so he can just move on with his life and forget the ugly past. No part of him wants to remain alone.

 

Harry stares at his reflection until the mirror fogs up from the steam of the shower, and all that’s left is a blurry image of himself. That’s exactly what he feels—like he can’t see the truth clearly. Everything is foggy and muddled and confusing.

 

Still, he’s hard and aching from Louis’ scent, which is no less potent even behind the closed door. Slick is dripping down his thighs and marring the air with the fragrance of his own arousal, making him feel warm and dizzy. With a defeated sigh he releases his grip on the cool granite countertop and slips his fingers inside his heat, scissoring them impatiently just to open himself quickly. Pleasure is not the goal—getting off is the goal. It’s how he treats the situation every time he masturbates, never taking the time to really enjoy it, just going through the motions until he comes.

 

The lube he grabbed is fake alpha scented and it’s so strong it makes him feel dizzier and sicker than before. It smells like generic stereotypical alpha, heady and manufactured, and he hates every second of it as he pours it over the pink alpha knot and shoves it up his bum. He thrusts it furiously, pulling it in and out to create the friction he needs to get off, all the while biting down hard on his wrist. Muted whimpers and whines escape anyways, despite his best efforts. There’s no way Louis doesn’t hear him, and through his hazy need he feels very embarrassed, to the point where his arousal dulls and he thinks this may be all for nothing.

 

Harry comes anyways, whining in his voice that’s way too low for an omega, one hand on his dick and the other jamming the fake knot up his ass. He immediately knows he did it too roughly when he pulls it out and winces from the uncomfortable burning sensation. The room is filled with artificial alpha scent and everything hurts and he just really, really wishes he was dead. He starts crying instead.

 

Whimpering into his forearms, carrying the alpha knot with him, he steps into the shower and breaks down beneath the spray. As water encompasses him he begins to sob, feeling ridiculous and stupid and childish all at once in a wave of painful emotions. He cleans the knot off and gasps under the water for a long while, wrapping his arms around himself, grasping on to any form of comfort he can find. There isn’t much, and really all he has is himself. He rocks back and forth for a while until exhaustion overcomes him and he leans against the cold tile wall instead, water droplets dripping down from his hair and onto his skin.

 

Tears mix with water from the shower until both are indistinguishable, and eventually he gives up and sinks to the shower floor, curling up into a ball. It’s pathetic and insane but he can’t help it, he’s just so terrified and confused and nothing seems right. Nothing seems okay. He’s certain nothing is.

 

He wants to remain in the shower forever, crying for eternity. There’s this aching feeling on his skin like he desperately needs someone’s arms around him, his needy omega desiring a mate to hold him, but he has no one so he holds himself instead. The little, barely-there comfort he can offer himself isn’t enough.

 

The water turns cold after a while, so he shuts it off and crawls out, shivering. There’s a clean towel on the rack that belongs to Louis, but Harry doesn’t see any others so he wraps himself up and tries to dry off, teeth chattering. His bare feet against the tile are cold, toes curling, as he bends over to dry off his hair. As the fog on the mirror clears up he keeps an eye on his reflection and tries to see a change in his being but there’s nothing really. He still looks depressed and exhausted, except now his skin is wet and his eyes are red and puffy from crying.

 

He doesn’t have any clothes to wear so he’ll just have to brave it. He opens the bathroom door slowly and steps into the bedroom, shivering. His hands shake as he clutches the towel to his naked body, and he stands there, still and unmoving. Looking for orders.

 

Louis is on the bed, scrolling through his phone. He may look nonchalant but the room smells like alpha arousal, enough to make Harry’s hands shake even more. The chances of Louis getting off while Harry was in the shower are high. The omega part of Harry preens, proud of arousing an alpha, but the rest of Harry just feels cold and confused. Of course Louis would be turned on by the scent of Harry’s slick. It really, truly doesn’t mean anything. Harry is an omega and Louis is an alpha and when they’re too close together for too long of a time, in a bedroom no less, one or both of them is bound to be a bit excited.

 

Biology. It’s always just biology. Just stupid alpha-omega hormones and evolutionary response. All to promote procreation, which, in this case, is ironic, because Harry is as barren as the desert and can’t have a baby if he tried.

 

Louis looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t even open his mouth. There’s nothing to say, no cheeky _feel better?_ with a gentle smile and a quiet laugh or anything of the sort. Harry is sore and aching, frustrated and embarrassed, and Louis probably can’t wait until Harry leaves. Harry knows how much of a mess he is, and he can’t imagine anyone ever in the history of the world wanting Harry enough to bond him.

 

Still, the alpha crawls to the end of the bed and then reaches over to open the middle drawer of his dresser. He rifles around for a moment before pulling out a pair of pajama pants and a soft-looking t-shirt, handing them to Harry. Harry takes them with shaking hands, eyes downcast. Louis turns his back very pointedly to give the omega the room to change, so he does, dropping his towel and dressing in Louis’ clothes. When he’s finished he sets the towel on the rack in the bathroom to dry, and then he rounds over to Louis’ vision to convey he’s finished.

 

“Still up for spending the night?”

 

Harry nods, feeling the familiar dizziness that haven’t left since getting off in the bathroom. Now there’s a confusing mix of scents in the room, with all the arousal and then the generic alpha scent on top of it.

 

From the look on Louis’ face, he has noticed the smell too, and decidedly doesn’t like it. His nose is scrunched up in disgust as he sniffs Harry.

 

“Why do you smell like unfamiliar alpha?”

 

“The lube,” Harry mutters, cheeks heating up even as he crawls beneath the covers in an attempt to get warm. He’s still shivering uncomfortably.

 

“Ohh, ewwww.” Louis wrinkles his nose, frowning. “My alpha really doesn’t like that.”

 

Harry hums in response, stomach hurting probably because the alpha he really likes isn’t happy right now, and as always Harry has that primal need to please. “You can scent me if you want,” He offers, trying his best to school his expression into something neutral.

 

Louis stops abruptly, going pale, and grips the edge of the sheets so tightly his knuckles turn white. “What? Really? Are you sure?”

 

Harry shrugs best he can while lying down. “If you want to.”

 

Harry’s not sure he’s ever seen an alpha blush—hell, he didn’t even really know it was possible. But Louis’ cheeks are tinged pink and his eyes are wide and Harry thinks that for the first time he sees Louis flustered.

 

“Umm, okay,” He whispers gently, voice soft and laced with something sweet, too. It makes Harry preen internally. The moment of slight hesitation, insecurity, and embarrassment is short-lived however. “Wrists, neck, or thighs?” He asks more confidently, hands more steady now that he’s regained his alpha confidence.

 

“Whichever you want.”

 

Louis hums in contemplation and slides closer, slotting their legs together in the process. Then he reaches up and uses the tips of his fingers to grasp Harry’s chin and very carefully tilt his head to the side. The omega falls compliant with obedience, letting Louis move him like a doll and not putting up even a hint of a fight. He simultaneously shifts his face to the side and leans back, exposing his neck very dutifully.

 

“You’re so lovely,” The alpha sighs, his breath dancing on Harry’s skin, before he leans in slightly more and presses his lips to Harry’s neck. The omega completely stills in response, the trembling in his hands ceasing immediately as a warm feeling floods his body and is pumped through his bloodstream until he feels light as a feather. The alpha encompasses every single one of Harry’s senses until he’s completely overwhelmed by his presence, and then pleasure tingles throughout his body like he has ever felt before.

 

It feels like the softest touch in the world, feather-light and sweet and gentle as Louis brushes his lips down Harry’s neck, peeking his tongue out and carefully licking the skin, smoothing kisses over it. When the alpha presses his mouth to the tender bondmark, exhaling hot breath to the flesh between his lips, it arises the most pleasure he’s ever felt in his entire life, all at once.

 

It’s funny because he has spent multiple heats with two different alphas and it’s said that an omega spending their heat with an alpha, especially when they’re bonded, is one of the most pleasurable experiences in the entire world for an omega. Yet the first time the pleasure was inhibited by fear and self-loathing, and the second time the pain overwhelmed him. But now… Now, with the pain dulled and this sense of safety and comfort in Louis’ alpha arms, he lets the pleasure overtake him, rule him, and control him in a way he’s never been controlled.

 

For a moment he lets the bliss roll over him like the steady lull of the waves outside, and he rides with it, floating through the clouds of ecstasy and pretending everything is okay.

 

Louis doesn’t pull away. He keeps his face buried in Harry’s neck, hands shifting the omega’s body so it’s all curled around him, leg hooked over Louis’ hip and fingers tangled in his hair.

 

“You smell so good,” the alpha groans, using his body weight to tip them over and press Harry into the mattress, everything about the two of them still tangled together. “The best. Best I’ve ever smelled.”

 

“Really?” Harry asks, that same insecurity curling in his stomach even through the pleasure. It tinges his voice too, making it deeper and quieter and filled with a lack of self-confidence, and he’s sure Louis can detect it even if he doesn’t comment on it. He can’t imagine how many omegas Louis has been so close to, really doesn’t want to imagine it. As much as he tries to push the intrusive thought from his mind, it returns like a recurring nightmare and he just can’t get rid of it.

 

“Yes, baby. So good. I wanna smell you forever.”

 

His words do little to ease Harry’s mind, but it doesn’t matter. He’s still high on the pleasure of being scented, and not much can bring him down right now.

 

“Feel good?”

 

“Mhmm,” The omega purrs, playing with the hair at the nape of Louis’ neck, scratching his nails lightly and marveling at the way Louis reacts, goosebumps rising on his skin. Then he winds his arm around Louis’ waist, slipping his hand beneath his shirt and pressing his fingers to the small of his back, tracing small circles that turn into figure eights.

 

“Me too,” Louis tells him, kissing his neck again. “You make me feel so good.”

 

Wrapped around each other, dipping into the mattress, curled up beneath the duvet, they lie, listening to the sounds of the sea and the litany of their breaths fuses in the air. Louis mouths at Harry’s bondmark, and the omega allows his mind to wander farther than he usually does. For the first time he thinks about what it might be like for Louis to bite him right there, right over the aching bitemark that tethers him to his dark past. He considers the pain that will mix with the pleasure, and then the way it must feel when it’s all over. Nothing but peace, harmony, and happiness. Finally belonging to someone again, someone who is good. Someone who is kind and sweet and gentle. Someone who will take care of him and love him.

 

Maybe. Maybe. He knows Louis doesn’t want him, especially since he’s cognizant of the very horrid fact that Harry will never be able to give him kids and if anything that’s pretty much the deciding factor. But for now, at least, it’s nice to think about.

 

So he lets himself dream.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you're ever debating if you should come talk to me or not, the answer is always yes, come talk to me :)
> 
> [Reblog the fic post on Tumblr and add 10 years to my life](http://angelichl.tumblr.com/post/168648843544/somewhere-far-away-from-here-by-angelichl-harry-is)
> 
> PS Prepare yourself for the next few chapters. It's gonna be a wild ride but I think we're tough enough to handle it.
> 
> xx Adri


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said bad things were coming but I couldn't fit them in this chapter.
> 
> Enjoy the fluff.

 

 

 

_My baby, my angel, my dear, my love,_

_Please do not leave me-_

_I love you more than every star above-_

_I love you more._  


—dreamsigh.tumblr.com

 

 

It’s eight o’clock in the morning, the sun rising steadily through the sky and heating up the day, when Harry finds himself sitting in the passenger’s seat of the SUV, dressed in shorts and a hoodie, unfolding a map in his hands.

 

Louis is beside him, shades on, gripping the wheel loosely between his hands, sending the car sailing down the highway as he sings along to the radio. The other three are in the back, all curled up in a pile of limbs, their seatbelts straining. Unlike Louis and Harry, the three of them aren’t very well rested, and Harry chooses not to guess what they were up to last night. Instead, he looks ahead, deciphering the map so he can navigate easily when the time comes.

 

This morning, Harry woke up with Louis on top of him, the alpha’s face still buried in his neck. Harry figures he must have really liked it, then, being able to scent-mark Harry so he no longer reeked of fake alpha scent from the lube. Though omegas are the most possessive of the genders, it doesn’t mean alphas can’t be possessive too, and Louis proved that fact very thoroughly last night, with the way he grimaced at Harry smelling like another alpha—even if he knew that other alpha didn’t really exist.

 

And Harry had let him. Harry had allowed the alpha to scent him, making him smell completely like Louis, until every other scent became indistinguishable. There was something about it, though, that made Harry’s insides melt to goo. Something about smelling like the alpha he adores so much, as if he belongs to him. As if Harry is Louis’, which is exactly the message the mixture of their scents conveys.

 

Harry still smells heavily like Louis, even now, as they five of them are going on a day trip to the sand dunes in Leelanau County. In fact he smells so much like him that it calms him, keeping the trembling of his hands at bay, especially when he covertly brings his wrist to his nose and inhales when he thinks Louis isn’t paying attention.

 

He gets caught once, when they’re driving through a small, cute town with all these little shops lining the street, but Louis doesn’t do anything except smile to himself and slide his hand to the space between them, palm up. Harry observes him questioningly but the alpha keeps his eyes straight ahead, watching the road. After a while the omega realizes Louis is giving him the opportunity to hold his hand, so he does, placing his hand in Louis’ open palm and trying not to pay attention to the fact that his is much bigger than Louis’. Again the insecurity is back and he swallows heavily, feeling too big and ugly for an omega. The way Louis interlaces their fingers, squeezing tightly almost as if he knows what Harry is thinking, palliates the situation.

 

They’re at the dunes in an hour, pulling onto a road labeled _Pierce Stocking Scenic Drive_.

 

“We’re here!” Louis cheers, very loudly after they pay the fifteen dollar ticket price, enough to wake the three in the back who have fallen asleep.

 

They’re groggy at best at the first four sights, which include a very old covered bridge, a field of wildflowers, and lookout over the ravine, and finally a small observation platform that overlooks the Sleeping Bear Sand Dunes. At each stop Harry croons in awe, wishing he had a camera or a phone to document the beauty, even though he knows a picture would never do nature justice. Louis just smiles at Harry’s astonishment and presses his lips together tightly, like he knows each stop will be better than the last and if Harry is in awe now he’ll really be impressed later.

 

When they get to the seventh stop, there’s a crowded parking lot and a mass of people milling around everywhere. Tourists, families, runners, kids, elderly… everyone. Harry peers around curiously as he steps out of the car, stretching out his back. There’s a line of trees with a couple sandy paths cutting through them, but he can’t see what’s on the other side.

 

“Ready?” Louis asks, looking very good in his shorts and tank top, hair mussed and sunglasses hiding his eyes. Harry feels the vague urge wrap him in a hug and never let go. It doesn’t wane or fade.

 

Harry nods, and the alpha grabs his hand again, tugging him up one of the sandy paths. They leave the other three boys behind, since they’re waiting in a very long line for the bathroom. Harry adjusts his own sunglasses over his head—borrowed from Louis, of course—and lets the alpha pull him along, tugging him up the sand dune.

 

They get to the top, finally, and Harry is… speechless.

 

In front of him, all spread out like a wall of blue, is Lake Michigan. Which is not out of the ordinary, except it’s _below_ them. Below them, because they’re standing about five hundred feet above the water, on a dune made purely of white sand. People are milling around everywhere but for a moment all of the noise and chaos fades away, and it’s just Harry, standing on top of a very large sand dune, overlooking the lake which is spread out so beautifully in front of him.

 

“It’s breathtaking, isn’t it?” Louis asks, his voice pulling Harry back to reality.

 

Harry nods slowly, speechless, eyes trained on the bright wall of blue in front of him.

 

They hike a little to the top of a smaller dune where there aren’t any people, and they sit down in a small patch of sand cleared of beach grass, overlooking the beautiful lake. Harry takes his flip flops off and digs his toes into the sand, relishing in the feeling of warmth. Louis rests his head on the omega’s shoulder, still holding his hand, and sighs happily. They sit quietly for a bit, enjoying the bustling of people around them, and the cool sea breeze mixed with the sun slowly warming them.

 

Louis starts talking about his family, his omega mum and his sisters and baby brother, and explains the first time they came here and didn’t even know what to expect, much like Harry today. He tells Harry about how he and Lottie, his oldest sister, raced all the way down the sand dune, straight to the water, running and laughing the entire time. When their toes touched the lake they turned around and began going back up. Except, it was a lot more difficult than they anticipated. A lot more difficult than running down it, feeling like they were flying. They had to crawl up on their hands and knees, and for every upward step they took, they slid downward two. The stopped for a break every five minutes, exhausted and panting, nearly in tears at their fatigue, the earlier fun completely dissipated. It took them nearly two hours to make it back to the top, and by then their mum was screaming at them and their shoulders were burnt red from the sun. Louis laughs now as he tells the story, saying they looked like lobsters.

 

“Never again,” Louis mutters, looking down now at the dune where scattered figures are slowly crawling up the sand. “Those poor souls.”

 

Louis’ story makes Harry laugh and it’s a feeling he hasn’t felt in almost a year—that soreness in his belly from laughing so much his abdominal muscles hurt.

 

“Hey Harry?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“About, um- About last night..?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Louis folds his hands controllably in his lap. “Well, um. I heard you, I guess? In the shower. Last night. When you were- You know. And I- Well, there’s no easy way to say this and I know I’m being super invasive…”

 

“You mean when I was…” Harry makes a vague gesture with his hands, waving around wildly, mouth dry like he swallowed a handful of cotton. “When I was… Um, getting off…”

 

“Right. When you were- Yeah.” Louis smacks a hand on the side of his cheek and sucks in a deep, shaky breath. He takes a moment to recollect himself before he fully turns to Harry, eyes steely and piercing in earnest. He looks… determined. “Listen, I know this is super awkward and invasive of me but I’m just gonna come out and say it because this is important. I heard you last night even though I tried not to, so I apologize for that but you were just in the other room and the walls are really thin so of course I heard like, everything. Well the point is you were doing it very quickly? Like if you like it that way I’m not judging but I think if you just… take your time, I guess, things might be better? Like, it might feel better. And stuff.”

 

“What..?” Harry stares at him dully, mouth gaping. Is Louis really critiquing him on his masturbating technique?

 

Louis covers his face in his hands, groaning. “I’m sorry,” he moans into his palms, lying down and collapsing in the sand. “It’s just I heard you and you sounded really rushed, and you were making these little desperate noises like it hurt, but you just kept going, and, yeah… I just- I don’t want you to be ashamed of who you are, okay? I noticed it during your heat, too, the way you shy away from pleasure like you feel you don’t deserve it, and… I don’t like that. You deserve all the pleasure and happiness in the world and I guess in my mind at least that starts with pleasing yourself? Maybe, I don’t know. I just wish you were kinder to yourself, more gentle. I wish you would stop beating yourself up for things that are completely out of your hands, like the fertility thing, and your gender…”

 

“Oh.”

 

“I know this is a weird conversation, and I’m so sorry for overstepping boundaries, but. The offer still stands? Of me- helping you. If you want it. I know it’s weird and I definitely shouldn’t be offering this because of the AORS and all that and I really hope you don’t think I’m taking advantage of you. I just like you a lot, is all. Too much for my job, of course, but like. Some things are meant to be, right?”

 

Like you. Like you.

 

Like you.

 

Ohhhhhh.

 

Harry doesn’t say anything. He just stares at Louis with wide eyes and feels his heart swelling in his chest like a balloon being filled with helium. Soon it will burst and break his ribs and everything will come crashing down but for now everything feels pleasant and lovely and his heart is beating rapidly because does this mean what he thinks it does?

 

Like you. Like you. It keeps repeating over and over again in his mind like a broke  record, but it’s a nice song at least, one he doesn’t want to stop.

 

“You… like me?” Harry says after a long while, his very pleased scent filling the air no matter how hard the lake breeze tries to blow it away. They’re close enough that Louis can smell it, of course, and he does, inhaling deeply and smiling at Harry so dazzling it makes him dizzy and faint.

 

“Yes. I like you,” Louis says, still smiling with his white teeth shining. And Harry thinks, _those teeth were on me last night_. Thinks, they _could be on me tonight if I play my cards right_. And even, _they could sink into my skin if become a good omega and do everything to please him_.

 

“You. Like? …Me…” Harry confirms, voice choppy and confused as he points his thumb to his chest, the other hand digging into the sand.

 

“I do.”

 

Jesus, Harry feels as if he’s admitting a primary school crush and actually having the other person be receptive to his advances. He smiles with glee.

 

“Really? Like, _like_ like?”

 

Louis rolls his eyes, leaning forward a bit so he’s all up in Harry’s space, his sweet breath exhaling onto Harry’s skin, smelling like pine trees. “Yes, omega, I _like_ like you, and I have for a while. I can’t believe you haven’t noticed.”

 

The omega’s brows furrow for a moment, and then his eyes skit to the sand, avoiding Louis’. In a minute he remembers all the same doubts and insecurities he’s been thinking for the past month, and they come crashing at him like the waves of Lake Michigan. His lack of omega attributes, the fact that he’s bonded to another alpha, the recognition that his virginity is tarnished, his ugliness, his infertility…

 

“What the fuck, Harry, stop. I can literally see you thinking and it’s making my head hurt. Stop thinking you’re not good enough, okay? If anything, I’m the one who isn’t good enough for you.”

 

Harry shakes his head, a maelstrom of emotions swirling in his mind and his heart, confusing him.

 

“No, omega, listen to me. You’re the perfect omega. You _are_. You’re kind and sweet and so caring. You nest and protect the things you love, and I know you’re frightened about a lot of things, but you’re so brave in so many ways. You had a complete asshole of an alpha _kidnap_ you, _rape_ you, and take you away from your entire life. And you stayed with him for seven whole months because you didn’t have any other choice but you survived. You _survived_. And that in itself makes you so strong and so brave. I am so proud of you for your progress over the past month, the way you’re healing, letting people in… I really like you, Harry, a lot, and I wish you would believe it. I care for you, and I know I shouldn’t care this deeply because of the AORS but I just can’t help it.”

 

He sighs, wringing his fingers together like he’s nervous and frustrated. “I want you, Harry. I want you so bad. There’s something about us together that’s just so great, and don’t you feel it too? It’s like, our scents go so well together, and when I touch you everything feels calm… And I can see it, too, I can see the effect I have on you. Your hands tremble all the time except for when I’m holding you. And you… You follow what I say even when they aren’t orders, like you _want_ to do that, you _want_ to please me, and you don’t know how much my alpha loves that, how much _I_ love that…”

 

There’s a heavy silence in which Harry doesn’t know what to say so he keeps his lips pressed together, teeth grinding, and doesn’t speak. Louis is staring at him with his big blue eyes, pale and piercing as always, and there’s this burning in Harry’s gut, this clawing in his ribcage, like his heart is trying to escape from him and run to someone else… His heart which belongs to someone…

 

“I want to protect you, omega. Not just from your awful alpha, or just because I’m from the AORS. I want to protect _you_ , Harry, you specifically—and _all_ of you, too, from everything. Everything scary and bad and awful, I never want it to touch you ever again.”

 

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Harry answers honestly, feeling dumb and stupid and confused. Nothing has made sense these past few months but Louis’ confession has really set the world spinning on its axis and Harry wonders what it will take to right it again. If an _I love you_ will suffice, or if his own problems are too complicated and involved to just be solved by a simple declaration of commitment. Regardless, his mind screams, it would undoubtedly be nice to have someone by his side, even if it doesn’t necessarily solve any of his problems.

 

“Let me ask you then. Let me ask you,” Louis pleads, grasping Harry’s sandy hand in his own. Their palms are sweaty and they’re both breathing heavily, and the world is continuing on around them, the hustle and bustle of the crowd persists, the wind carries on blowing, and… And.

 

The way Louis is holding his hand, Harry feels grounded, tethered to the earth, as if he might float away if and when Louis finally lets go. His world is spinning in the opposite direction right now from chaos and confusion and nothing feels right, nothing feels right at all—except for this. Except for Louis’ hand encompassing his own, though his palm is smaller and more delicate. Stroking gently as if to calm him down, and it works. It does. Harry feels his heartbeat slowly change from its erratic, chaotic tempo, becoming steady and syncing to the drumbeat of Louis’ pulse, strong and dependent like an alpha’s pulse always is. It’s calming. Grounding.

 

Harry realizes Louis is looking for an answer, wondering if it’s okay to ask Harry. Ask Harry what? His heart knows the answer but he’s too afraid to admit it to himself—he’s been too afraid to admit it to himself for a month now, all of it. His feeling for Louis, first and foremost, which he isn’t sure if they really exist or not, if it’s just his needy omega clinging to the first alpha it can find, or if he really does care for Louis. It doesn’t matter, he doesn’t have time to sort out his feelings right now and his nagging mind whispers there’s no feelings to sort out anyways. Love isn’t confusing, love should be one of the most straightforward emotions in the world. But no, it’s muddled and perplexing, terribly confusing. Love will never not be a mystery.

 

“Okay,” He whispers very quietly, voice small and broken and still stupidly deep. That constant reminder that Harry is so unlike an omega that even his voice is different and out of place. He tries his hardest to ignore it and he has for years but when everything hurts like it does right now, any little insecurity is infinitely expanded and he has a very difficult time ignoring any of them. But he pushes them aside for now, hands trembling, and bravely matches the alpha’s intense gaze.

 

Louis grins, so wide it nearly splits his face. “Okay. I want to be your alpha… I want you to be my omega. Will you let me?”

 

“Wha- What?”

 

“I like you a lot, Harry, and in my opinion we’re quite lovely together. I want to court you of course—it’s definitely an experience I want you to have, especially since you’ve never been courted before—but I need to tell you my intentions. I want to mate you, bond you, everything. I want to be with you for real, through everything, no matter what. I want to be yours and I want you to be mine. Do you think that’s something you might want, too?”

 

Harry’s heart, despite its recent attachment to Louis’ steady tempo, commences beating rapidly again, so much he fears it’ll jump out of his chest. That’s what it feels like, at least, as he stares at the alpha in front of him and fish mouths in shock.

 

The blush on Louis’ cheeks is back and he drops Harry’s hand slowly, tilting his chin down. Two very uncommon actions for alphas, who never blush and never show submission by tucking their chin to their chest. It’s so strange, just like his apparent habit of licking Harry’s tears to comfort him, and Harry finds himself unbelievably endeared. However, more than that, he feels this swell of envy in his chest, as he realizes Louis is omega-like in many ways but he never acts ashamed of it. Harry, on the other hand, is nearly in tears all the time because he feels like he doesn’t fit in.

 

The point is that Louis is blushing and tilting his chin down because Harry isn’t answering his question. _Shit_. There’s a one-hundred percent chance he thinks Harry doesn’t want what Louis wants, and, well, Harry just can’t have that, because this perfect, beautiful opportunity might disappear if he doesn’t open his goddamn mouth and answer.

 

Harry knows what he wants in life. He promises he does. He wants safety, protection, and stability. He wants love, yes, to love someone and to be loved by someone. Unfortunately, given the circumstances, these are big goals. Almost unattainable, in fact. As an unconventional omega who is tall and ugly and infertile, the chance for a mate is few and far between. So when an alpha tells him he wants Harry, truly wants him, he has to take the opportunity. He has to. It's a matter of survival, in a way.

 

(Harry has to treat it like an act of survival because if he doesn't, he'll be faced with the frightening truth that he likes Louis so, so much, he might never feel this way about anyone else ever again. That's frightening. That's terrifying. It makes his hands tremble and his blood runs cold.

 

Love is strange. Love is horrid. It's an ugly monster, all teeth and claws, gnawing at the pericardium of his heart. Love is wicked. Love is cruel. Love is all-consuming, and it drives him to madness.

 

But love is pleasant, too. That ugly monster of teeth and claws, chewing his heart to piecing and spitting them out of its filthy mouth, is beautiful in a way. He feels this ugly, selfish, desperate love for Louis. He does. He does.)

 

“Yes,” Harry gasps, eyes so unbelievably wide, and he’s on the brink of tears as he always is, so ovrewhelmbed by everything, but especially overwhelmed by this. _This_. Louis asking to court him. To eventually mate him. To eventually _bond_ him. “Yes, _yes yes yes_ , please, _please_ _yes_ -“

 

The omega’s babbling must amuse Louis because he laughs, voice high and light, like those stupid peeling bells again, and it makes Harry’s stomach curl in pleasure and anticipation.

 

“Thank god, I’m so glad.”

 

“Me too,” Harry cries, overwhelmed tears finally falling, spilling all over his cheeks and dripping down, wetting the sand between them.

 

“Don’t cry, omega,” Louis chastises with the biggest goddamn smile on his face, eyes crinkling, nose scrunching. He’s laughing so hard and Harry is too, even through his tears, out of joy and glee and everything merry. They must look absolutely insane, sitting in the sand, in a mixture of hysteric laughter and hysteric tears, but neither one of them cares because in this moment the world may very well only contain the two of them. And heavenly that would be.

 

The cry-laughing doesn’t stop anytime soon, so Louis scoots forward and clambers onto Harry’s lap, squeezing him in a very tight hug. They press their faces in each other’s neck and spend a third of the time crying, a third laughing, and a third inhaling each other’s scents.

 

Louis smells so good right now, better than usual and usual is already amazing so this is just… indescribable. He smells happy, is the thing. Elated. Like his usual pine trees and cinnamon, but with something different, too, and the way his scent mixes with Harry’s floral fragrance is completely otherworldly.

 

After minutes or maybe hours, Louis minutely detaches himself just to get a better look at Harry’s face. He peers down at him, still perched on the omega’s lap like he doesn’t give a shit about gender roles or typical conventionality, and he asks, very abruptly, “Can I kiss you?”

 

 _Of course_ are the words on the tip of Harry’s tongue. However, he has always been a firm believer that actions speak louder than words, so he decides to exercise this doctrine by reaching up to cup Louis’ cheek, reeling him in and pressing their lips together.

 

The alpha kisses back hard, very enthusiastic as he squeezes Harry’s hips and tips them over so they’re lying in the sand, Louis on top of Harry. The omega keeps his hands on Louis’ face, caressing his cheek and making sure he doesn’t pull away too soon. It isn’t a very valid worry as the alpha nibbles at Harry’s lip until he opens up, and then Louis is licking into his mouth, so sweet and slow and lovely. Reverent, in a way.

 

That’s the word Harry would use to describe it. Very _reverent_. They regard each other like they are something holy—something worthy of worship.

 

God. Everything is perfect. Everything is bright. Everything is light.

 

They must kiss for an hour. It feels like a millisecond and an infinity all in one, and Harry is so happy to just let it happen. So he does.

 

The hooting and hollering of Niall, Liam, and Zayn, is what finally rouses them from their very passionate, very giggly makeout session. They detach from each other, Louis sitting back on his heels and helping Harry up from where he was splayed out on the sand, and then they’re both grinning with cherry red, spit slicked, enthusiastically bitten lips.

 

“Alpha,” Harry whispers, a loopy grin splitting across his face, so big it hurts.

 

“Omega,” Louis answers, his smile brighter than all the stars above.

 

For once, the most foremost emotion Harry is experiencing isn’t pain, fear, humiliation, or self-disgust.

 

No. It’s much better than that.

 

For once, all he feels is happiness, and hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not over yet ;) Loads more to come. I promise this isn't the end.
> 
>  
> 
> [Come talk to me!](http://angelichl.tumblr.com/ask)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I hope this makes sense)

_(Have you ever wanted_  
To curl up inside a dream  
And stay there?)

—The Cynical Idealist,  
“Of Lovers and Moonlight”

 

 

“Where do you want to sleep tonight?”

 

“With you,” Is Harry’s immediate response, no hesitation or shame seeping into his voice. He blushes though, a bit embarrassed by his enthusiasm and surefire desire to be as close to Louis as possible at any given moment. He bites his lip nervously but doesn’t take back what he said.

 

They’re currently walking up the stairs to the beach house, legs tired from their expedition of the day, lips still red and swollen from kissing for so long. After their makeout on the sand dunes, they continued their adventures and enjoyed the view a bit more before piling into the car again and visiting some other touristy destinations. They stopped for lunch at a fish-themed pub with a large deck outside, and they ate French fries and hamburgers beneath a large umbrella, shielding them from the bright summer sun.

 

After that, they hiked on a four-mile long trail in the forest, with Louis and Harry hanging behind and holding hands. The two of them walked very slowly and stopped every few minutes just to kiss each other, as they were both still so lovesick and giddy, they couldn’t help themselves.

 

The lovesickness hasn’t worn off yet, even as the sun dips low in the sky and scintillates in bright reds and oranges. Louis tugs Harry inside, asking him where he wants to sleep for the night, and Harry answers honestly. _With you._

 

The five of them watch a movie but Louis and Harry are too enamored with each other to pay any attention to the TV, so much so that Harry cannot recall a single plot point of the film by the time the credits roll. He had been too busy inhaling sweet alpha scent and enjoying the insanely wonderful feeling of Louis’ fingers in his hair, sending shivers of pleasure shooting down his spine.

 

It’s midnight when they’re ready for bed. Liam somehow manages to carry Zayn in his arms while Niall hops on his back and they disappear in their bedroom, leaving Louis and Harry alone together which is a quite common occurrence. Louis lifts his arms above his head and stretches like a cat, his hoodie riding up and exposing a strip of soft, tan skin that Harry really wants to press his cheek to. Somehow he manages to contain himself.

 

It’s when they’re walking down the hallway to Louis’ bedroom that Harry gets this idea in his head and he just can’t seem to shake it. It’s so stupid but he realizes he’s liked Louis for a while now. None of these feelings are exactly new, so they don’t scare him as much as he anticipated. Now that he’s finally sort of admitting them to himself, everything hurts a little bit less. Everything makes a little bit more sense.

 

Maybe it’s the lack of fear that convinces him to do it. Or maybe it’s just the way his heart is flipping excitedly in his chest, threatening to break through his ribcage just to get closer to the alpha he adores. Whatever it is that compels him to do it, it doesn’t matter, because he’s tugging on Louis’ arm, pulling him away from his bedroom door and leading him all the way down the hall to the room at the end.

 

He shoves the door open, heart thudding wildly, his scent all over the place and tinged with positive feelings like excitement and adoration and anticipation. Louis is confused enough to ask _where are you taking me?_ before Harry pulls him even further into the room and grips the handle of the closet door, yanking it open with not much show or grandeur.

 

They’re faced with the sight of Harry’s nest, all full of blankets and pillows and clothes, very meticulously organized to create a comfortable spot to sleep.

 

The thing about omegas who nest is that they are very, _very_ particular about what goes in their nests. Only items with clean, pure scents make the cut, and even then…

 

The point is that omegas are very choosey about what goes in their nests, and even more selective about _who_ goes in. Typically just the omega, the omega’s babies, and _maybe_ their mate, if their mate is lucky and well-behaved. But even then that’s rare.

 

“Harry…” Louis whispers, mouth open in shock, eyes wide. “Are you..?” _Are you inviting me in?_

 

The omega smiles, nodding sweetly. His voice is soft, quiet, and a bit shy when he says, “I want to cuddle with you.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yesss.” Harry steps inside and sinks to the organized mess of blankets and clothing, curling up and beckoning Louis inside.

 

Louis bites his lip, containing a wide grin, looking absolutely endeared. He slowly kneels down and crawls inside, sitting right where Harry tells him to, eyes wide in wonder. Harry watches quietly as he inhales deeply, breathing in what must be the very strong floral scent of the omega, mixed slightly with Louis’ own aroma.

 

“Do you like it?”

 

Louis’ gaze shifts to Harry, where he’s lying curled up with a pillow pulled to his chest. The pillow he stole from the alpha’s bed.

 

“Yes baby, is that even a question? Of course I do. This is so amazing; I love that you nest. You’re so lovely,” He gushes, leaning down to kiss Harry. “So fucking lovely. Is that my pillow?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“And my t-shirt…” Louis observes, voice inquisitive and slightly confused, pointing towards the cotton shirt beside him.

 

Harry picks up the shirt, brings it to his nose, and inhales deeply, enjoying the alpha scent even though it’s fading quite a bit now. Then he lowers the shirt and slots it between his thighs, where he usually likes to keep it when he sleeps. Over the past month, cuddling with Louis’ clothes has made him feel as if he has been cuddling with the alpha himself, and up until recently this was the only comfort he could really rely on.

 

But now he has the real thing right here in front of him, biting his lip in confusion as he carefully watches Harry’s actions and tries his best not to mess up the omega nest, probably for fear that Harry will scream at him and order him away.

 

“I like your scent,” Harry tells him, honest. “It comforts me.”

 

“Harry…”

 

“Cuddle with me, okay?”

 

Louis just shakes his head, eyes filling with tears, and laughs lightly.

 

“Why are you crying?”

 

The alpha laughs again and crawls behind Harry, curving his body around him so they’re spooning. Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s middle and then entwines their fingers, his breath steady on the back of Harry’s neck. “You’re just too sweet, baby. Too sweet. If I’d known you wanted things that smelled like me…”

 

“You make me feel safe,” Harry admits into the darkness, not surprised at all by the simple but heavy truth. In fact it feels good to say it out loud, to thank Louis in a way, to let the universe know he likes this alpha and never really wants him to let go.

 

Tingles of happy pleasure dance throughout Harry’s body as Louis presses his mouth to the back of his neck, kissing slowly and sweetly, sucking little marks that will probably leave faint, barely-there bruises in the morning. They’re like little temporary bondmarks, and that thought alone makes Harry smile to himself in the darkness, squeezing Louis’ hands to his chest with the intent of never letting go.

 

It feels heavenly to be curled up like this, surrounded by the warmth and comfort of Harry’s nest, with Louis front pressed tightly to his back. He listens to the slow lull of Louis’ consistent breathing, feeling the steady thud of his beating heart against Harry’s back, and closes his eyes, letting comfort and pleasure wash over him, consuming him.

 

Honestly? Nothing is better than this. It’s not even been months since he’s felt this safe, but years. Actual fucking _years_. Yet there’s something about this, about lying curled up in his nest with an alpha curled around him, that calms him to no end.

 

“You deserve to feel safe. Always.”

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

For three minutes after Harry wakes up, everything is okay.

 

He opens his eyes sleepily, squinting in the bright midmorning sunlight streaming in from the open windows, and there’s the biggest goddamn smile on his face even though for a moment he doesn’t remember why. However, when he _does_ remember why he’s grinning, the smile blooms and blossoms into a full blown beam, and he stretches his limbs, feeling that pleasant ache, breathing in the fresh air which smells like a wonderful mixture of his scent and Louis’. He’s agreeably warm, all curled up in his nest, and his heart is beating steady and strong. The _thud-thud-thud_ soundling like _safe-safe-safe_.

 

For the first time in months, he wakes up completely happy and well-rested.

 

The funny thing is, it doesn’t last long.

 

It’s the distinct sound of an alpha screaming in distress that jolts him fully awake. That sound—that awful sound, like everything scary and horrid and dark—rings like warning bells in his ears, and the first thing he thinks is, _Louis is in trouble_.

 

It sends his mind into overdrive, and his heart too, as he bolts up out of his nest and stumbles banging his knee against the dresser and falling to the floor. Pain shoots up his leg but he ignores it, scrambling up even clumsier than how he fell down, feeling this horrid, sinking panic in his chest as his heart _thudthudthuds_ in alarm.

 

“Louis?” Harry calls, voice shrill and worried. He has no time to pull on clothes over his pink pajama shorts and baggy t-shirt—he just rushes out of the room calling after his alpha, voice strained and desperate. The house is empty and quiet but he hears voices—Louis yelling, and something else, too—but he can’t quite place them and he has no idea what to do so he runs around the house, checking every door and calling out his name. Panic metastasizes quickly and overtakes his entire body, making him feel dizzy and nauseous and _afraid_.

 

There’s no response, but still the yelling continues, distressed and angry, and it makes the omega more than fearful. He calls his name to the empty house and then tries Niall, Liam, and Zayn too, but none of them answer, and then he remembers they said they were going golfing early in the morning so they aren’t here right now, and Louis is yelling somewhere but Harry doesn’t know where, and his vision is swirling in and out of focus, and everything is dark, and everything is _scary_ , and-

 

He runs to the front door and throws it open, flinging himself outside, and.

 

And.

 

And Louis is there, _thank god_ , Louis is there.

 

He’s standing on the driveway, legs spread in a defensive stance, chest out, arms raised and waving frantically. He’s yelling wildly, voice shriller than an alpha’s should be, but just as intimidating. Just as frightening.

 

Blood is pounding in Harry’s ears so he can’t exactly make out what Louis is saying as he screams avidly.

 

But then- Well, then Harry shifts his gaze, tearing his eyes from the alpha he cares for so much, and focuses on the captor of Louis’ very angry attention.

 

After all these months, Harry never imagined this. He has dreamed of it for nearly eight months now, had more than enough nightmares about it, and lets it preoccupy his thoughts at almost any given second of any given day. He has imagined every possible situation—except this one.

 

Never did he think their reunion would go quite like this. No, this is one he has never even considered. Not his alpha mother, standing wild-eyed and furious, teeth bared threateningly, arms raised in warning and promise. Not like this, not like this at all.

 

She’s screaming, “GIVE ME MY SON.” And she looks about two seconds away from launching forward and engaging Louis in a very aggressive, very real, alpha fight. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HIM? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HIM? WHERE IS HE? WHERE IS HARRY?”

 

Louis bellows right back, shouting something unintelligible, face red with anger. His hands are shaking as he steps forwards in an act of defiance—a sign he is not backing down. Harry stands at the door, watching the chaos in front of him, and finds himself paralyzed. Completely unable to do a single thing except watch in horror and wait with bated breath to see what they will do next.

 

_What the fuck is going on?_

 

“YOU TOOK HIM FROM ME—YOU TOOK MY BABY. YOU FILTHY KIDNAPPER. YOU _RAPIST_!”

 

“Don’t fucking call me that! Don’t you _dare_ fucking call me that!”

 

“YOU TOOK MY SON,” Harry’s mother shrieks, before lurching forward and getting her hands on Louis, going completely feral. She grips him by his t-shirt and uses all her might to throw him to the ground, tossing him out of the way and charging forward like she’s going to barge into the house.

 

Louis stumbles but doesn’t fall. He catches himself and then whips around wildly, eyes dark and menacing, frantic.

 

Harry wonders what he will do, but as it turns out there isn’t any time for him to do anything, because at this very moment, both Harry’s mother and Louis notice him standing there in the doorway, mouth agape, eyes wide with fear.

 

“Harry!” His mother cries, running forward like she’s going to entrap him in a hug. But he fears her force will knock him off his feet, so he sidesteps her advancement and stares in horror as she stumbles into the door.

 

She turns around, eyes blazing, and grips Harry’s arm. Her teeth are bared and Harry knows they aren’t aimed for him but it still makes him sick with fear because they’re meant for Louis—Louis, the alpha he cares for more than anything on this planet and he knows he would absolutely not survive if anything happened to him because even though it has only been a month Harry has become so dependent on him for everything like safety and protection and happiness and and and and and and—

 

His mother’s hands are wrapped around Harry’s right arm, and suddenly Louis’ are clinging to his left, and two feral alphas are screaming bloody murder and nothing makes sense but Harry is so so so so so so so scared. He feels dizzy with fear, blood pounding in his ears, vision swirling in and out of focus.

 

He doesn’t understand what’s going on but he knows there must be some sort of misunderstanding that could easily be resolved by some simple communication between the two alphas, except they’re both fucking feral and there’s nothing to do…

 

They both start pulling on opposite arms, causing Harry to let out a very startled, very frightened cry of pain. It rings shrill and horrid even in his own ears, and for a second both alphas stop, but neither grip loosens on his arms. They’re treating him like an object, like something to gain, something to win, and it’s making him dizzy and sick with fear and dread.

 

LET HIM GO LET HIM GO LET HIM GO  
HE’S MINE HE’S MINE HE’S MINE  
LET HIM GO  
LET HIM GO  


 

But neither one does.

 

“Harry!” His mother shrieks, her voice not just a scream, but a _command_. “Go to the car _right now_.”

 

It’s unmistakably an order. His mother hasn’t mandated him to do something in years, since he was in primary school and once refused to step away from the pond which was only slightly frozen, but not all the way through. He had desperately wanted to go ice skating but his mum wouldn’t allow it because it was dangerous. He hadn’t listened, and snuck out to run down to the pond anyways.

 

She had known, of course, that he had escaped, so she followed him all the way to the pond, silently waiting to see what he would do. When he laced up his ice skates, she didn’t say anything. She didn’t open her mouth until he was one foot away from stepping onto the ice, and just the very moment before something terrible happened, she commanded him to stop and turn around immediately.

 

That was years ago, the last time she used an alpha command to determine Harry’s actions. It feels like decades ago.

 

But now she’s ordering him to go sit in the car, and for what? For what? To go be out of the way, unable to make decisions for himself, as she decides his entire life. As she takes him away, and to where? Why?

 

None of it makes sense. All he knows is that it’s an order, and thus he must follow it. Except he can’t, because Louis is still clutching his arm in a death-grip he can’t break, no matter how hard he tries. Following the order becomes impossible, in this instance, and the pain of not being able to obey hits Harry with so much sudden agony, he crumples to the ground, Louis’ hand still latched on his arm.

 

He has no control over his body as he opens his mouth wide and lets out a longwinded omega cry, voice shaking with the torturous pain. It does its job and influences Louis to drop his arm immediately, brows furrowed, eyes still wild and furious.

 

Harry quickly scrambles up and runs to the car. As much as he wants to disobey, he physically can’t.

 

But he _can_ look back. He does so, and he regrets it immediately. He sees Louis standing on the stairs leading to the front door, teeth bared in a ferocious growl. But his eyes. His eyes are sad, and he’s staring right at Harry. He shakes his head once, blinking, eyes dark and cold.

 

Harry’s mother screams at Louis more, so loud the entire state of Michigan can probably hear her, bellowing “RAPIST! RAPIST! RAPIST!” until the word becomes nearly meaningless to Harry’s ears.

 

He doesn’t understand what’s going on. Rapist? Why does she think that’s what Louis is?

 

It doesn’t matter. His mum charges at Louis one last time, managing a very harsh punch to his jaw, so forceful Harry can hear the bone cracking even from far away. Then she turns and runs back to the car, throwing herself in the driver’s side and slamming the door shut _hard_. It rattles Harry, scaring him, making the pain almost unbearable. There’s the frantic thought of _my alpha is hurt_ followed by _I can’t help him_. And it’s tearing him apart.

 

“Where are we going?!” Harry asks desperately, voice nothing more than a gsap, as they’re speeding down the driveway and turning on the winding road, flying down it dangerously. He couldn’t even glance back at Louis one last time. He couldn’t even look to see if he was okay.

 

“Home.”

 

Harry grips the arm rest, knuckles turning white. He tries to control his breathing but ultimately fails, just giving up and hyperventilating. His mind is a cacophony of _Louis is hurt Louis is hurt Louis is hurt_ and he doesn’t know what to do, but he keeps thinking _my alpha my alpha my alpha-_

 

 “What the fuck just happened?”

 

“Don’t swear at me,” His mum bites back in an _order_ , voice curt and acerbic.

 

He sinks into the seat, feeling heavy with the weight of his need to obey. His pain is overwhelming him.

 

“I hate that boy,” She mutters, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard she might snap it in half. “He took advantage of you.”

 

“He didn’t,” Harry moans, protesting, sinking lower and lower, both physically and mentally. The world is dark and horrid, full of disappointment and pain. Confusion, chaos, and cruelty. “Mum, why would you take me away from him, why would you _hurt_ him, he didn’t, he didn’t, I promise, he didn’t-“

 

“You’re lying.”

 

“I’m not!” He gasps, voice desperate and weak. “Where are you taking me? Are we coming back? You _hurt_ him,” He cries, hysteric tears pouring freely now. “Mum, I _love_ him-“

 

“BE _QUIET_.”

 

Three orders within an hour. That’s a new record for her.

 

“I said, we’re going home. I have a flight booked for four PM. And no, you’re not going back. Why would you go back to that disgusting man? Honestly, I can’t believe him. Taking advantage of his position of power. Tricking you into being with him, keeping you from calling me… He’s so _sick_.”

 

Harry closes his eyes, shutting the heavy tears behind his eyelids, and turns his entire body away from her. He wants to throw himself out of the moving car, but he can’t because she ordered him to stay. He can’t even speak, either, because she ordered him to be silent. Now he’s sitting here like a stupid, compliant omega, desperate to obey orders even though the situation is tearing him to pieces. He has to go back to Louis, he has to see if his alpha is okay. But he can’t, he has no say, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

 

It doesn’t make sense, but he’s piecing it together. Slowly.

 

Harry’s mum knows the AORS rescued Harry, because she was the one who contacted them in the first place. But Harry was rescued a month ago and she never received so much as a call from Harry, because he was too afraid to contact anyone from his family for reasons he can’t verbalize.

 

She thinks Harry didn’t call because _Louis_ wouldn’t let him. Well, if she hadn’t ordered Harry to be quiet, he would be able to explain that it was his own decision not to contact them. Instead, he keeps his lips pressed together, biting his tongue so hard it bleeds.

 

So his mum thinks Louis raped Harry because no doubt Harry smells very much like Louis in a way that only suggest sex. However, this is very _ironic_ considering Louis is the very person who _saved_ Harry from the actual monster who committed such a heinous crime. And now they’re driving three hours South to Detroit to get on a plane and fly all the way back to fucking London because she fails to understand that Harry was actually _happy_ with Louis, and in fact not kidnapped, nor enslaved, nor forced to be there.

 

Harry thinks of Louis in his feral alpha state, defending Harry. Protecting him, in a way. Standing up for him even though Harry’s mum wouldn’t take no for an answer. He had tried, at least, and maybe it was wrong of him to react so strongly, physically sparring. But he had, and that was that, nothing to do about it. He just wanted to keep Harry safe, to be able to make his own decisions without his mother forcing him to do things he doesn’t want to do, stealing him away from the one person who dulls the pain and actually makes him happy…

 

_Who are you to decide his life?_ Louis had argued, voice emphatic and unwavering. _Who are you to decide his life?_

 

Of course Louis would defend Harry like that, sticking up for his own free will. It’s something Harry knows the alpha feels very strongly about—something he is so passionate about, any threat to this doctrine would no doubt bring fury and ferociousness.

 

All Harry knows is the life of an omega. All Harry knows is the life of following orders. All Harry knows is the life of being treated like nothing. It makes him shake with anger. Especially when he thinks of the sickening sound of bone shattering, when her fist had smashed against Louis’ jaw. That’s _his alpha. HIS alpha_.

 

And Louis’ words, rising above all else:

 

_Who are you to decide his life? Who are you to say where he should be?_

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

It takes almost four hours to get to Detroit, and by then Harry is shaking with silent fury. He doesn’t have the physical ability to speak, so he just sits rigidly in the passenger’s seat and glares out the window, heart shattered into ten billion fragments.

 

His mum is talking to him, saying things like, “I’m so glad you’re home baby,” and “I missed you so much,” and “I’m never letting that happen again.” All of this translates to _you’ll never be out of my sight again._

Harry understands where she’s coming from. To an extent, at least. He knows she’s worried about him, like any mother would be, because of what happened. Of course she never wants to let go of Harry again. She’s afraid he’ll be stolen away like he was eight months ago and forced into an awful situation. In her eyes every alpha in the world is out to get him and isn’t to be trusted, so it’s no wonder she assumed Louis had taken advantage of him and maybe even forced himself on Harry.

 

However, Harry may understand it but that doesn’t mean it’s right. And it certainly doesn’t mean he’ll just go quietly.

 

Commands can last anywhere from twelve hours to an entire week, but with the way his mum ordered him to be quiet, he won’t be speaking at all today unless she tells him he can. The thought of being mute for the entire day, so helpless to just explain himself, makes him press his lips together tightly and fold his arms over his aching chest.

 

Everything had been going so great for once… Just yesterday he was sitting in the sand with Louis on his lap, kissing him. Now, he’s four hours away, pulling into the rental place to drop off the car. Harry’s mum tells him to get out of the car but he refuses, so she orders him to do it, and he goes begrudgingly, feeling that torturous pain when he sees the airport across the way.

 

She practically has to drag him through the airport, and Harry trails behind like a petulant child, crying out of anger. All around them, eyes are on them, staring curiously. Yet this isn’t too strange of a scene, and much stranger has happened before so nobody stops and says anything.

 

They have to wait a few hours for their flight, so Harry curls up in an uncomfortable chair and tries his hardest to think of a way out of this. His mum is petting his hair in a way she thinks is comforting but right now it’s just ignoring Harry, and he wants to speak so badly so he can scream at her and break away from her vice-like grip. He can’t though, so he pulls his knees to his chest and stares out the window as planes land and take off in a steady rhythm.

 

He misses Louis already, and he’s so worried about him, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

 

He doesn’t know what’s to come of the next few days, if he’ll even get a chance to explain himself. He realizes in horror he doesn’t have a phone to contact Louis—and even worse, if he did, he wouldn’t know what number to call. They had never even considered getting Harry a phone or exchanging numbers, because they never thought they would be separated like this.

 

His mum, like the stubborn alpha she is, doesn’t seem to notice his internal agony.

 

For the first time in his life, he realizes he really hates her.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that happened... If there's anyone confusion, it'll probably be cleared up in the next few chapters, but if you have any questions feel free to ask.
> 
> Anyways I want to thank you lovely people for being so amazing! I've never seen a fic where the readers comment so much, and it means so so so much to me. You inspire me to write and to update frequently, and it's the nicest feeling to know that people actually read what I write. I love reading your comments so much. Thank you!!!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for all the angst :)

 

 

 

OBEDIENCE

Stand up – you are not hurt.  
There is no blood dripping from your mouth  
And your limbs are numb.  
Stand up. Lower your head.

 

_ —K.M., PERVASIVE ABUSIVE WORDS _

 

 

 

 

 

As sad as it is, deep down Harry always knew something like this would happen.

 

In hindsight, this situation is the exact reason why Harry didn’t want to contact his family right away. He knew his mum would overreact, and he knew she wouldn’t understand his relationship with Louis, or any of the other members of the AORS, for that matter. He knew she would think that Louis had somehow forced Harry into a quasi-relationship, especially after what happened with Harry and his actual alpha. His mum’s side of the story isn’t too farfetched; her reasons for turning ultra-protective aren’t too _out there_. But if she had just given him the chance to speak in the first place, none of this would’ve ever happened.

 

Then there’s the matter of his mum calling Louis a rapist, which is quite the irony, Harry realizes. Of course she would think Louis was forcing himself on Harry, when the real problem wasn’t Louis at all. In fact, Louis might’ve even been the solution. Which just really sucks for Harry, now, because he’s been forcibly removed from the only thing that’s made him feel safe in months. Now they’re separated and Harry’s stupid, weak heart is breaking. The pain he’s been feeling recently is only exemplified, and now there’s not even a temporary remedy. No Louis to rub his tummy or kiss his neck. No Louis to cuddle him and whisper that everything will be okay. No Louis to take the pain away, inch by inch, minute by minute. No Louis to cease the trembling in Harry’s hands or the ache in his heart. No Louis.

 

Harry remains curled up, lips drawn together tightly, blinking back angry tears, the entire flight. He does not speak because the command hasn’t worn off yet and even though his mum is watching him worriedly he does not try to pester her to allow him to speak again. To beg her to lift the order would be like surrendering, and has too much pride and rage to do that right now.

 

So he stays silent, simmering in quiet fury, fuming to himself.

 

He just… He can’t believe it. The manipulation. The use of force through commands, leaving him unable to explain the truth. The fact that he will probably never trust her again.

 

Harry stares blankly out the small airplane window at the sea of blue far beneath him—the clouds and the Atlantic Ocean. He thinks that in many ways his mum is just as bad as the alpha who kidnapped him, and while this is a scary revelation, it’s the truth. If only he had his words to tell her this. It would make her understand.

 

When he looks back at his mum for a moment he sees her staring at him worriedly, with wide eyes like she’s afraid he’s going to combust and explode into a billion pieces. Well, he just might. Harry glares back at her, keeping his gaze as cold as possible, because he can’t use his words but he still wants her to know how pissed off he is. He meets her gaze for a long minute and then turns away again when her expression breaks sadly, in favor of wrapping his arms around himself tightly and staring out the window again so he can’t see how upset she is.

 

Harry understands, he promises he does. When putting himself in her shoes, he wonders what he would do, if he would do the same as she did. Well, he’ll never truly know because he will never have the same priorities or desires as an alpha, but he can guess.

 

Alphas are first and foremost characterized by their protectiveness. They defend the people they love and guard them from harm, always wanting to keep them safe. They can be aggressive when threatened, and sometimes even go feral, letting their animal instincts take over. They will stop at nothing to protect what they love.

 

Naturally, it had been difficult for Harry’s mum to send him off to college, in the U.S. no less. She hadn’t wanted to let him go, but somehow he managed to convince her, so he spent his undergrad at Case Western Reserve University in Cleveland, Ohio. It was nice, though, pursuing his graphic design degree at a great school, and the feeling of independence for the first time in his life was absolutely liberating.

 

The art museum where Harry was abducted is just across the street from campus, and of course that night his world was flipped upside down. For seven months he had no contact with anyone from his old life, and of course his mum was worried, because as a tradeoff that allowed him to attend CWRU, he had agreed to call her three times a week at least. When the calls stopped coming she must have freaked out, maybe even flown to Cleveland herself, just to find him. To see if he was okay. Of course, he wasn’t.

 

Louis had told Harry that his mum was the person to contact the AORS in the first place, and Harry pales to imagine his mum on the phone, desperate to find her son. Desperate to keep him safe. It must’ve been awful.

 

Harry feels guilty for not calling her directly after the AORS rescued him, but he was hesitant for exactly this reason—he knew she would freak out and do something rash enough to mess up everything. And mess up everything she did.

 

In her eyes, Louis kept Harry from calling home. In her eyes, Louis is just as bad at the alpha who abducted Harry. In her eyes, anything that happened between Louis and Harry was not consensual on Harry’s part. Harry knows he smells like alpha in a way that can’t be covered up—in a way that unmistakably signifies sex, especially during heat. Well, Harry’s mum is in favor of the theory that he precious little omega son would never want that with another alpha must’ve been raped. Subsequently, she’s dead wrong.

 

Harry wants to scream at her that he isn’t weak and helpless, and he needs to live his life for himself, but all the evidence goes against him. When he was living on his own, he got abducted by an alpha and forced into a seven-month ‘relationship’ of torture and abuse. Then his mum thinks he was also taken advantage of by the very person who rescued him. It may not be correct, but it’s what she thinks, and in her mind that’s damn well enough reason to keep him locked away in her own home for the rest of eternity, never letting him leave her sight.

 

Everything was going so well, too. Nothing was perfect, but for once it was the best it ever had been, and Harry was _hopeful_. When he thinks back to the previous night, and then this morning when he woke up in his nest and for the first moment everything was so heavenly perfect he could feel happiness and peace wrapping him up in warmth and safety…

 

It’s all broken. It’s all shattered. He’s separated from the one person he may be capable of truly loving someday, and there’s no way to solve the problem. Especially when he’s forty-thousand feet above the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

 

He’s pissed at his mum even though he understands her motivations, and it makes his heart hurt when he thinks she just wants to keep him safe. She doesn’t want to lose him again.

 

Harry should’ve called her the second he was out of that goddamn apartment. He should’ve talked to her and told her he was safe. Maybe none of this would’ve happened. Maybe. Or maybe she would’ve reacted the same, and ripped him away from his protectors. Maybe he never would’ve gotten the chance to know Louis at all.

 

He can’t regret that, not at all.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

They arrive in London early in the morning, before the sun has risen yet.

 

Harry has no belongings with him—only the clothes on his back, which, he realizes belatedly, are a bit revealing. Pink pajama shorts that are way too short, ending not even mid-thigh, and a loose-fitting t-shirt. He hadn’t even realized he was barefoot until they were midway through the flight.

 

Harry’s mum only has one small bag with her anyway, and the omega knows she wasn’t planning on staying long. Just a flight in, drive up to get Harry, then fly back. No time for explanations or justifications.

 

It takes forever to find her car in the parking lot because of the darkness of the early morning, and by the time they get inside Harry’s feet are filthy from walking around outside barefoot. He doesn’t care in the slightest.

 

It isn’t until they’re halfway home that she lifts the command.

 

The first thing Harry says to her is, “Eff you.” He still can’t swear but that won’t stop him from getting his point across.

 

She looks over at him, both sad and startled, and grips the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turn white. “Harry,” She warns, chastising him as if he’s a child.

 

“I hate you so much,” He tells her, because now that he can use his words, he can’t exactly find the right ones to say what he really needs to say. So overcome with emotion, again he just wants to jump out of the moving car and maybe crawl his way back to the airport so he can get on a flight back to the U.S.

 

“Harry…”

 

“I can’t believe you, mum. I can’t believe you flew all the way there just to order me around and punch my alpha in the face.”

 

“ _Your_ alpha?” She asks, bewildered, jaw clenched tight. She looks livid and frightened and Harry shouldn’t be pleased with himself but he is, secretly, as he observes her reaction. He’s so angry at her, he wants her to know just what she did. “Harry, that man is not-“

 

“Let me speak!” Harry shrieks, omega voice shrill and higher pitched than it has ever been in his entire life.

 

She’s quiet for a long moment but Harry can tell she’s about to say something so he waits, just so he has an excuse to scream at her again. “Harry, you don’t have to call him that anymore, you’re safe here.”

 

Harry takes a big, deep breath to clear out all the air in his lungs. He exhales slowly and keeps his gaze locked on the road in front of him, so as to maintain his composure. If he looks at his mum right now, he’ll lose it.

 

“Mum,” He begins slowly like he’s talking to a child, voice very calm but cold in a way, too. “I really like Louis… You think he forced himself on me or something, but he didn’t. Anything he did is because I wanted him to do it. Okay?”

 

“He tricked you into it, Harry, he-“

 

“Mum, no. I care about him a lot. He cares about me too. And you just came in and tore me away from him-“

 

“You think he cares about you, honey, but he’s just using you-“

 

“Why, mum, why? Because he’s an alpha? Because all alpha do is order omegas around and _use_ them? Because Louis didn’t do that—I’m pretty sure you’re the one who did. You forced me to go in the car and be quiet and what was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to explain that everything was fine and you were making a huge mistake? I’m so mad at you, mum, you don’t even know. You _hurt_ him. You hurt _me_.”

 

“Harry-“

 

“He never ordered me to do anything unless I was okay with it. The only alphas who have ever forced me to do something I didn’t want to do are the alpha who abducted me, and _you_ , mum.”

 

There’s a long silence, so long Harry thinks he really hit a nerve and his mum is ignoring him now. This theory is shattered when she says, quietly, voice stone-cold but controlled, “You’re not going back to him.”

 

Harry laughs bitterly. Like hell he’s not going back to Louis. He’ll figure out a way, no matter what it takes. There’s no way he’d ever let something as great as what they had slip away from his fingertips, alpha command be damned.

 

Then, in a great act of rebellion, using all the strength he can manage and ignoring the pain best he can, he spits out the words, “Fuck you.”

 

Going against his mother’s very specific orders not to swear at her, which have since faded slightly in strength just enough that he can fight back against them, hurts so badly, the pain makes him black out.

 

It’s worth it, though.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

What must be hours later, when he opens his eyes, he’s back at the house on the lake.

 

He looks up to see those same sloped ceilings and the warm beige color of the walls, then the bright light streaming in from the windows, blinding him slightly. They’re closed, so he has to use his imagination to conjure up the scent of the sand and the sea, but it’s so ingrained into his memory that he doesn’t have much trouble to dream it up. He thinks he hears the waves too, not crashing against the shore with aggression but just gently rocking against the sand in a constant, melodic lull.

 

One specific scent is missing, though—the scent of pine needles and autumn, like cinnamon mixed apple cider and burning firewood and the forest itself. As Harry’s vision clears, he realizes he misses this scent dearly. So he sits up in search of where it may have disappeared to.

 

This is when he sees his surroundings—the small desk filled with papers and miscellaneous belongings, the chair in the corner of the room stacked with clean clothes he’s been too lazy to put away, the shelf on the wall covered in stuffed animals from his earlier days. For a moment he’s confused, still thinking he’s in Michigan, and then realization dawns on him and he flops back on his childhood bed, heart pounding wildly—aching, in a way.

 

He’s not in Michigan. He’s not even in the U.S.

 

Tears leak out as he clutches a pillow close to his chest and curls up around it, seeking any sort of comfort no matter how artificial. Harry does a quick inventory of the current problems making him cry, and he lists them out in his mind. He only has himself now, which is just _great_. Everything hurts, he’s afraid of alphas, he hates himself for many reasons but mainly because of his infertility, and now he’s heartbroken and separated from the one person who dulls the pain. It’s an incomplete list of all his woes, but it’s a start.

 

His mother doesn’t understand and she probably never will. What else is new? Ever since Harry presented as an omega, a rift was formed between them and the mother-son relationship became shifted, in a way, on a slant that made everything confusing and blurred. Alphas can never fully understand omegas, just as the reverse is true too.

 

Harry’s scent must smell very upset and distressed, because the sound of footsteps outside his bedroom door resonates and then there’s a quiet knock, almost uncertain in a way. Harry can tell immediately it’s not his mum, so he invites the person inside.

 

It’s Gemma, of course. She steps into the room with hesitance, softly closing the door behind her and approaching the bed. Harry keeps his eyes closed, keeping the stupid tears at bay, but listens as she comes closer.

 

“Harry?”

 

He doesn’t respond. Ever since he got home last night, he’s been radio silent, pointedly ignoring his mum for all it’s worth. As a result, he hasn’t said a word to his sister, either. Childish as it may be, he prefers to brood in silence. He isn’t ready to forgive anyone yet—not until he’s on a flight back to the States.

 

Gemma sits down on the edge of the bed, perched like a bird ready to fly away at the slightest conflict. Harry watches through blurry eyes as she reaches her hand out as if to touch him, and then retreats very quickly like she realizes what she’s doing, realizes it’s wrong. It isn’t wrong, but she thinks it is, and Harry can’t have that.

 

“I’m not gonna break, you know,” He grumbles, shifting over so he’s lying on his stomach, pillow squeezed to his chest. If he closes his eyes he can pretend he’s back at the beach house with Louis. The image hurts more than it should.

 

“Sorry- I know, it’s just-“

 

“It’s alright, I’m fine. I’m just really fucking pissed off at mum, among other things.”

 

Gemma sighs heavily and scoots closer, resting her hand gently on his shoulder. She strokes her fingers back and forth in a comforting gesture, and it partly works. Harry knew he missed his beta sister, but he hadn’t realized exactly how much. “I know, baby bro. I’m mad at her too.”

 

“You have to help me get back to him.”

 

“Him as in your boyfriend?”

 

This causes Harry to stop short. He drops the pillow and sits up a little, back straighter than it’s been in a while. The blush that heats up his face isn’t planned, and he rubs at his eyes to cover it up even though he knows it won’t escape Gemma’s eyes. “I mean, I guess. We never really talked about it. But he was just, like, really sweet to me.”

 

He gets a sharp poke to his cheek and a peal of laughter in response. “You like him, then. A lot.”

 

The eye roll is inevitable and so is the way he squirms away to escape his sister’s poking fingers. “I do,” He admits, trying not to be too vulnerable around his sister, because their relationship just isn’t like that. He picks at a loose thread on the quilt, ignoring the ache in his chest in favor of focusing on the pain in his stomach. For now, at least, his self-worth seems easier to deal with than the unlikely prospect of love. “I just can’t imagine another A treating me like he does, Gemms.”

 

“Yeah, H, but alphas are volatile, and dangerous…”

 

“Swallowed a dictionary, did you? And trust me, I know. But he’s different.”

 

“Alright baby bro, I believe you.”

 

“Thank you. But mum doesn’t.”

 

This pulls another sigh from his sister, long-winded and exasperated. “I know, Harry. I’ll work on her. And try to forgive her, will you? I know she doesn’t exactly deserve it right now, but you have to know she just wants to keep you safe.”

 

“I understand, it’s just-“

 

“You want to go back to him. And she doesn’t want you to.”

 

“I don’t know what I want. All I know is that I need to be in charge of my own fucking life, and I need to be the one making the major decisions. I’m sick of random alphas just coming in, ordering me around, and making decisions for me like I can’t do it myself.”

 

“Mum isn’t just a random alpha,” Gemma argues. “She’s your mother and she wants to protect you.”

 

“Yeah, and my alpha isn’t just a random alpha, either. He’s a fucking psychotic knothead who decided it was a good idea to rape me,” Harry bites, venom in his voice. He isn’t exactly sure what his point is but it feels good to get the words out, even if he’s being unnecessarily harsh to Gemma who literally hasn’t done anything wrong.

 

“Don’t compare mum to that _sicko_ , Harry,” Gemma chastises, swatting him on the arm. It’s harsh enough to make him flinch.

 

“I’m not!”

 

“You are, though. They may both be alphas but they’re very different. Your alpha wanted to hurt you; mum just wanted to keep you safe.”

 

The truth is Harry knows this. He knows his mum has good intentions, but it doesn’t fix anything. It doesn’t make anything better. The excuse of protecting him is flimsy at best. Harry isn’t a child and he deserves the freedom to make his own decisions. He also deserves the freedom to communicate and explain himself, which is a freedom revoked by his mother when she ordered him to remain silent.

 

“You need to talk to her, Harry. Soon, okay, so you two can fix this.”

 

“Okay, fine.”

 

Gemma quirks a smile and pats the bump of Harry’s knee beneath the blanket, sliding off the bed. She pops her hip jokingly, making Harry laugh. “Okay kiddo, I’m done yelling at you. We’ll talk about your boyfriend later, ‘kay?”

 

Harry groans. She runs out of the room laughing, obviously finding enjoyment in her younger brother’s discomfort.

 

Gemma grilling him about his possible boyfriends is never any less than grueling.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

The rest of the day is strange, to say the least. Harry remains in his childhood bedroom, refusing to leave except to use the bathroom. He refuses to eat, even when his mum brings food up to his room around dinnertime. Guilt creeps up his spine when she leaves the warm plate by the door and exits his room with her eyes worried and sad. Yet he still refuses to crack.

 

At around eight o’clock in the evening, he gets slightly antsy and for some reason feels arousal coiling low in his stomach. It’s strange, because lately he’s never really been getting turned on. Ever since the bad thing happened he hasn’t exactly been feeling up to getting off. It’s even stranger, in fact, because he has absolutely no reason to get turned on. Except for maybe the fact that he’s been daydreaming about Louis a little bit, in his boredom and his sadness.

 

Besides, Louis’ words are bouncing around in his head and even though they’re thousands of miles away he can’t escape from them. Not the he wants to, necessarily, but still. He thinks of that day at the Sleeping Bear Sand Dunes when they were lying on the sand and Louis brought up the topic of conversation that ultimately led to Louis admitting he wanted to try a relationship with Harry.

 

_…The way you shy away from pleasure like you feel like you don’t deserve it…_

_…I don’t want you to be ashamed of who you are…_

_…You deserve all the pleasure and happiness in the world and that starts with pleasing yourself…_

 

The montage of Louis’ words is seemingly shallow on the surface but actually really strikes some deep insecurity within Harry’s core, and maybe his words are the inspiration behind what he does next.

 

With slight mortification, he crosses the room to his old dresser and yanks the top left draw open, rifling around through pairs of underwear and socks until his hands land on something soft and embarrassingly familiar. He sucks in a deep breath for courage and then pulls it out, staring at it for a long while and wondering what the fuck he’s doing. All he’s thinking about is that his entire life has been filled with shame for his own gender, and frankly he’s exhausted from it. It’s very wearing to be embarrassed of any and every sexual desire he’s ever had in his life.

 

So he throws caution to the wind, finding a barely-used bottle of alpha-scented lube, and dives back into his bed after making sure the door is locked. He turns reaches over the bed to turn the small fan on for some background noise, hoping no one in the house will notice because if that happens he’ll just have to die of mortification. He stares at the ceiling for a long while before deciding _fuck it_ and gently palming himself over his boxers.

 

The situation escalates from there. He slowly strips out of his clothes, tossing them haphazardly off the bed and trying not to fret about having to clean them up later. It doesn’t take a lot of touching until he’s achingly hard and wanting. There’s that familiar drive to shove the alpha knot up his bum harshly just to get it over with like the night he got off in Louis’ bathroom, and Louis _heard_ him, and told him not to do it like that again.

 

The omega part of Harry—the part that desires nothing more than to please every single alpha on the face of the earth—shudders at the thought that even now he might be disappointing Louis. He slows down, dropping his hand from his crotch and playing with his nipples instead, wincing at the sensitivity and trying his hardest to calm down and relax.

 

His mind is a messy whirlwind of conflicting memories and emotions, and he can’t make sense of much of it. There’s a mixture of recollections of heats when he first presented, followed by those awful months locked away and essentially being used as a sex doll, and finally the short but memorable June with the only alpha who has ever truly cared about Harry’s own wants and wishes instead of his own. The mixture includes three distinct emotions that he can name easily but cannot analyze as effortlessly: shame, fear, and affection. Each corresponds with a certain epoch of his life, and when they’re all combined together it’s nearly enough to make his dick soft again.

 

Harry doesn’t let that happen. Instead, he returns to palming himself, then stroking his hand up and down his shaft with just enough friction to leave him breathless. Again there’s that part of him that wants to squeeze so hard it hurts and go fast enough to make it burn, but then he thinks of Louis and he shoves the slightly masochistic urge away, trying his best to focus on the pleasure instead.

 

After a while of playing, longer than he’s used to, he hesitantly flicks open the cap of the lube and winces at the scent. Again, like the night in Louis’ bathroom, it smells overwhelmingly like manufactured alpha, so much it nearly makes him sick. The intentions are great, to comfort mateless O’s during their heats, but when faced with the fact that there’s only one scent in the entire world he actually wants to smell, the odor of the lube is a bit unbearable.

 

With an annoyed groan, he pours some out anyways, coating his fingers and gently pressing one inside. It’s too much and not enough all at once, which is quite a confusing feeling, but he knows this is what he needs. And again, he wants to please the alpha who told him to be kinder to himself, even though Harry sort of feels like he doesn’t deserve it.

 

Gentle whimpers fill the still air of his childhood bedroom as Harry squeezes his eyes shut tightly and attempts to use his imagination to bring him somewhere else. It doesn’t work very much, with the very overpowering fake alpha scent, and the familiar feeling of his childhood blankets covering his naked body, and that aching breaking feeling that encompasses his entire feeling. Yet he slips one more finger in, and then another, pressing them in and out and stroking his walls, trying to find any semblance of pleasure in ways he hasn’t noticed before. Mostly, it just feels weird. He can’t reach his prostate at this angle anyways, so it’s kind of meaningless.

 

When he gets bored of his fingers, and turns antsier to just get his orgasm over with, he retracts his sticky fingers in favor of slicking the knotted dildo with lube and pressing it inside. This is when he really tries to use his imagination to conjure up images of some faceless but desirable alpha, but it really doesn’t work at all, as he envisions a combination between his abusive alpha and Louis. Neither one is particularly pleasurable, because the former frightens him while the latter makes him feel guilty. He gets this twisted feeling in his stomach when he thinks of the torture he has faced in the past year, and he feels in the wrong when he imagines Louis because it just doesn’t feel right to use the alpha as his own sexual desires without him knowing. It makes him feel dirty and gross.

 

Thus, he challenges himself to not think of anything as he slowly thrusts the knot in deep, fidgeting to hit his prostate. Pleasure floods through his veins, warming him to the core, and he lets out breathy whines in response, desperately hoping the fan is loud enough to cover his moans. Even the semblance of privacy is rare in this household.

 

At the lackadaisical pace, it takes a while to push himself over the edge, but he manages, ending with the knot pressed in him tightly. His thighs clench together, fingers curled into fists, one wrist in his mouth as he bites down hard to keep the whimpers and whines inside. He lies there for a long time, staring up at the ceiling and wondering what the fuck is going on in his life and why it has to be so complicated, before he finally pulls it out with one last groan from the sensitivity.

 

A while later he gets up and shuffles to the bathroom, chest and tummy streaked and sticky with come, thighs a mess with lube and slick. Very pointedly he ignores his reflection in the mirror as he hobbles into the shower, bum less-than-pleasantly sore, and gets under the spray even with the water ice cold. He’s shivering even as it heats up to the maximum temperature, and shivering still when he’s back in his bedroom to dive back beneath the quilt.

 

Shivering, still, when he’s wrapped up like a burrito and trying his hardest to keep his mind pleasantly blank. The trembling doesn’t stop, as he knows he’s thousands of miles away from the one person who can actually achieve that feat.

 

So here’s the deal:

 

Harry Styles was abducted, raped, and abused, for seven dark months of his life.

 

Then one day three people came around and rescued him. They call themselves the AORS, and they took him back to their beach house in Michigan, a seven hour drive away.

 

Stupidly, Harry was afraid to contact his family. He remained with the AORS for an entire month, going through the very beginning of the healing process with a kind, caring alpha by his side.

 

This alpha’s name is Louis, and he was so kind he even offered to help Harry through his heat just to keep him safe.

 

At one point Harry found out the pain in his stomach was actually because he’s infertile, and that little realization set his world spinning again—his long-desired future dissipating before his very eyes.

 

Shit happened. They got a little too close. Harry actually began to have hope for the future, and hope for them, too, together. He even went so far as to invite the alpha into his nest, which is, in fact, the ultimate act of affection that can be conveyed by an omega.

 

Then the very next day his overbearing alpha mother was at the door, screaming at Louis and calling him a rapist. She stole Harry away because she thought Louis was forcing him to be there, or using him at least, deceiving him.

 

Now he’s an ocean away, brooding like a moody teenager in his childhood bedroom, jacking off and fingering himself for god-knows what reason.

 

He’s trembling from pain, fear, longing, and hatred. The longing is the worst, because it’s the only feeling that really touches his stupid heart.

 

_Whatever_ , he thinks. _Fucking fuck. Life goes on._

 

And so it goes.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of stuff going on in this one! I hope you're hanging in there as Harry tries to figure out what exactly is going on, and hopefully we all understand Harry's mum a little more because of this. Also, about the smut, I don't know why but it's just so easy to write. Weird haha
> 
> As always, comments truly inspire me to write more and write faster. I love reading your thoughts so much, and please know that even if I don't respond right away I've definitely read your comment and probably swooned over it.
> 
> Much love,  
> Adri


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Graphic depictions of rape/abuse exist in this chapter.  
> If you have any questions before you decide to read, do not hesitate to ask.

 

 

 

I. A hundred men split  
her hips, until the place  
between becomes a pink  
scar. She paints her eyes  
back into her head each  
morning. Goes to school  
and keeps her skinny  
thighs locked, loses her  
fingers like flower petals,  
next her arms. Tender  
green wood gone hard  
shell. Lacquered. Hollow.  
When you click her halves  
together, you can’t even  
see the parting to pick  
open with your fingernail.

  
II. She is under her mother’s  
desk; a furtive and fierce  
foxchild with a Barbie doll  
in her paw. In her dark  
den, she peels Barbie free  
of clothes and scrabbles  
at the blank plastic between  
her legs, twists her limbs  
into twine, spits into the  
staticky plastic hair:  _you’re_  
 _a dirty little whore and_  
 _dirty little whores get_  
 _what they deserve._

  
III. She swears  
she will never  
give birth  
to a daughter.  
Won’t even  
plant a garden.  
   
 _—Adira Bennett, “Russian Doll”_  
 

 

 

 

It happens the next day. Just like that. Easy.

 

He’s downstairs in the kitchen, wearing different pajama bottoms and a t-shirt he found buried deep in his closet, and he’s pouring milk into a bowl of cereal. Finally eating after refusing for so long; he’s starving. His mum is busy making a more elaborate breakfast, but Harry is still ignoring her, feeling rage in his chest every time he thinks about where he is and why he’s here.

 

Then the doorbell is ringing and she’s smiling and saying “Oh, it must be the neighbor,” and asking Harry to get the door. It isn’t a command, but she is still Harry’s mum and Harry is still an alpha, so his feet move on their own accord because above all he just wants to please.

 

And she doesn’t know how Harry’s hands tremble now when he’s meeting strangers but maybe she would know if she paid him a bit more attention, or even cared enough to ask how he’s been doing. She doesn’t seem to realize her son just went through the most traumatic seven months of his life, because here she is completely overlooking his fear and his anger in favor of pretending everything is okay and back to normal. When he approaches the door he vaguely smells something like gasoline, and thinks maybe he should check the garage to see if the car is okay.

 

Steady still, but with shaking hands, he opens the door.

 

A thousand years, a million eternities, and he never thought it would happen quite like this.

 

The first words, uttered in a soft voice that is not his at all. Quiet as a whisper, barely there so only Harry hears. It isn’t a suggest but a command, and even through the feigned softness his voice is wicked.

 

And Harry knows it so well. Not the softness but the coldness. The fear it invokes. The dread. The terror. The icy hand crawling up his throat, latching on and squeezing his windpipe until he’s suffocated, gasping for breath but not being able to find any because to breathe would be to live and in this world there is no _life_ , only horror, only _death_ -

 

“Be quiet, don’t move. Pretend we’ve never met.”

 

Sick enough to puke out his guts, Harry stays still like a statue, feeling fear crawl up his spine with prickly fingers that somehow twist his insides. In fear his heart thuds fastfastfast but right now it’s still in his chest just like the rest of him, just like he’s already dead. Maybe he is. Maybe the fear finally killed him.

 

The smell of smoke and oil like burning gasoline fills his lungs, and the scent is enough of a trigger to send him spiraling into panicky dissociation. For once he isn’t in his body, but floating above it, in a way, like he’s some outsider just watching the horror unfold. He feels detached as he looks down and sees this poor pathetic omega, ordered still by a big hulking alpha. The omega would be trembling if he wasn’t so keen on obeying. Yet the mandate was spoken with such force he has no chance of ever revolting against it. So he stays still, even outside of his body, and drifts away.

 

Up here, somewhere, nowhere. It’s safe in this nowhere, in this empty gray. Nothing can touch him because nothing exists—not even he. Just gray emptiness like an aching gaping hole, like the loss of everything, life and death and all that’s in between.

 

His mum’s voice brings him back to earth somehow. It takes Harry a moment to realize she’s introducing him to the man entering from the doorway—the man Harry already knows. Too well. He nods numbly when an answer is expected from him, still not allowed to speak, and he meets his mum’s gaze with wide eyes. She doesn’t look worried or even questioning, in fact, she might even look pleased.

 

“Harry, this is the alpha I was telling you about on the way home,” She begins, wrapping her hands around her mug of tea. Harry has no recollection of hearing about this absolute monster on the way home, but that may be because he was staring out the window desperately trying not to cry, desperately ignoring everything his mum said because it just made him so angry and sad. Well, his mistake, because he has no idea what’s going to happen in a moment but he knows it isn’t going to be good. The very alpha that abused him is standing in the foyer of his childhood home, thousands of miles away from that stupid fucking apartment on the river, and Harry’s head in spinning with fear and terror.

 

“He moved in just down the road a couple weeks ago, actually, and he’s been stopping by a lot. A very kind man,” She laughs, winking at Harry like she’s trying to set him up with this fucking monster or something, and Harry is trembling so bad it’s painful, because he was ordered to be still. He can’t help it, he’ll take the excruciating pain as punishment, but he just can’t stop shaking. And all the while he’s staring at his mum with fearful eyes and wondering how she doesn’t see that this is the alpha that abused Harry, this is the alpha who stole him away and fucked him into the floor for months without end, this is the alpha who makes Harry shake and burn with fear at the slightest touch or the quietest sound. This is him, the devil, the monster, the very personification of everything malevolent and evil. Wicked and cruel.

 

It’s funny. Laughable, even, that Harry’s mum was so dead set on dragging him away from Louis because she thought he was a dangerous alpha, but here she is unknowingly befriending the very alpha who made Harry’s life hell.

 

_Louis_. Harry misses Louis dearly. Louis who made him feel safe, Louis who took him somewhere so far away he didn’t shake just to think about the monster finding him.

 

But here he is instead as his very own mum invites the monster right into the living room for tea, and Harry has no choice but to sit down on the couch right next to him, their thighs brushing. A chill washes up his spine as he closes his eyes tightly, squeezing back the tears. Every ounce of evil in the entire world is sitting right beside him, shaped in the form of a charming alpha who somehow conned Harry’s mum into letting him into her house for months, and _God_ , Harry has no idea what to do, there is nothing he _can_ do, so he just sits quietly and again like always lets someone else decide his own goddamn life, because he’s an omega and that’s just the way things work around here, and everything is god awful and horrid, but there’s nothing to do, no way to fix it, and he aches and aches and _aches_ -

 

Harry’s alpha clasps his hand around his thigh, squeezing so tightly it hurts. His touch is cold yet scalding at the very same time, burning Harry with the sheer iciness, and it makes him sick, and it makes him ache. Memories are flashing in his mind like a case file for a crime scene and he just keeps thinking _it’s me, it’s my body that’s the crime scene, everything that went wrong is right here within me and I can never leave it, my life is covered in yellow tape screaming caution but there is no escape. There is no escape_.

 

And then he’s thinking, how _did he get here? How did he get here? How did he find me? How did he find my mum?_

 

It makes him burn; it makes him ache. He sinks into the disgusting touch of the alpha who has stolen away his life, and he submits to it. He’s so afraid, he doesn’t know what to do.

 

There is nothing to do.

 

When Harry’s mum returns with the tea, Harry’s alpha accepts it gratefully with a smile that would be charming except Harry knows what’s really behind it. Then he turns to Harry to show off his smirk, something that says, _just wait until I get you alone._ It makes the omega shake with fear.

 

“Anne?” The alpha begins, and the way he says Harry’s mum’s name makes the omega dizzy with dread. “How about I show Harry my place? I have some furniture I still need to move and he would be a great help.”

 

“Of course,” His mum gushes, already shooing them out the door. The thought that she’s so eager for Harry to interact with this alpha she thinks is kind and _good_ makes his blood run cold. He’s awful and horrid and how can she not see that?

 

Though, he must admit, his alpha is putting up a very convincing front, with the way he looks so groomed and put-together, all proper and cordial and kind. Harry knows he’s anything but. The kicker is that Harry’s mum doesn’t.

 

As soon as the front door closes behind them, a heavy hand hastily wraps around Harry’s arm, _tight_ , and he’s being dragged down the street. He whimpers quietly in pain and protest, and it hurts so bad when the noise slips through his mouth that he immediately presses his lips tightly together, especially when his alpha growls, “ _Shut up_.”

 

Harry doesn’t know what’s happening. Everything feels like a dream and he cannot decipher reality from hallucination no matter how hard he tries. The world has this filmy layer of sheen to it that glimmers and shines, and he’s aware that he’s walking down the street he lived on his entire childhood which has never changed, but somehow he himself has changed, so everything looks different. He is not the kid he once was, and so much has happened since he was last home, and now just the sight of the old familiar pavement is making him sick because it has an entirely new and horrid meaning now.

 

The omega feels himself clam up, his body shutting down, as he completely submits to his alpha. He is tugged down the street in front of houses and neighbors tending to their gardens, stolen away in front of his very mother, and not a single person says a single word. No, they just watch and wait to see what will happen next. If they notice at all that is.

 

The door to a car is unlocked and Harry is shoved inside harshly and tears are streaming down his face. He wants to sob and cry out loud just to have some way to let some of the pain escape him but he’s been ordered to shut up and every time a tiny whimper escapes his lips he’s hit by the most excruciating pain in the world, so bad it makes him breathless. He collapses to the floor of the car, curling up to protect himself, and flinches when the door slams and another opens. Then there’s the distinct sound of the engine starting, and they’re pulling out of the driveway and down the street, and Harry’s heart is thudthudthudding right out of his chest like a rabbit springing through the grass trying to outrun the fox but he can’t, he can’t, he can’t- And he gets caught, teeth sinking into his fur, turning all mangled and bloodied and dead.

 

Harry wants to ask him, _where are we going?_ and, _why are you doing this?_ But really he just wants to run away as fast as he can. He wants to run and run and run screaming all the way, sobbing and crying and screamingscreamingscreaming like a car alarm left on as a warning not to touch him, and he’s so afraid he feels like he’s suffocating, like there’s this heavy weight on his chest that’s just pressing down down down and cracking his ribs so they puncture his lungs and his heart oh god his heart which is beating like that rabbit running from the chasing fox desperately trying to survive.

 

He tries to sit up but he just falls back down in his weakness and collapses with a thud, curling in on himself pitifully. A small, weak, helpless omega, pitied and _used_. Walked over like a doormat. Sometimes people don’t even notice he’s there, but the horrific truth is that sometimes it’s worse when they do notice him, like Harry’s alpha, who noticed him in that parking garage and found something desirable in his lanky frame and awkward gate and somehow decided that Harry was the one he wanted to rape. Harry was the one he wanted to steal away, to kidnap, to abduct, and to hold captive, like Hades held Persephone in Hell. Harry is no Persephone. He has none of the strength, none of the power, and no pomegranates to link him to the underworld. He is pathetic and unholy, not a sight to be seen.

 

It must be days before the car stops and stills finally. Days, weeks, months. Years. Eternities before the door is opened and he’s being grabbed in harsh handfuls, stood up on his two feet, a harsh blow to his jaw that cracks in the air, and at once Harry is reminded of the same way his own mother hit Louis just like that, right in the jaw, hard enough to create a _crack_.

 

The omega stumbles, stunned and absolutely afraid.

 

His alpha glares at him and says, “We’re staying here for the night and catching a flight tomorrow morning. We’re going home.”

 

Harry doesn’t look to where his alpha is gesturing, but once he’s pulled inside he recognizes the familiar décor of a hotel and his alpha’s words are swirling through his head. _We’re going home. Flight tomorrow. Home._ None of it makes sense because the omega thinks he’s talking about the apartment in Cleveland but why would they go back there? Why would they get on a plane and fly over the ocean just to go back there? To go back _home_?

 

There’s an even sicker feeling in his stomach at mention of the word home, sick enough to make him whimper and cry but silently this time so as to avoid the unbearable pain which sears him alive. He is pulled through the hotel with a hand over his mouth, and he realizes his alpha already checked in, and then they’re going up the elevator and everything is spinning and Harry nearly passes out. But he doesn’t.

 

In the hotel room his alpha is throwing his bags on the ground beside the bed and shucking off his shoes, and then he turns to Harry and he has this big twisted expression on his face, and he looks angry, and it makes the omega cower away in fear, because he knows what’s coming next.

 

Yes. He knows what’s coming next. The omega has lived this nightmare for seven months straight and he knows each part of the play like an understudy who is eager for the leading role. He knows what’s coming next because this moment replays in his mind every time he closes his eyes, and each time he relives it wondering what he did wrong and how he could’ve prevented it. Because no matter what this will always be in some way his fault, and that’s that horrid fucking truth, that absolute fear and self-disgust.

 

He has seen it before, this anger, this rage, and he knows what to expect but that doesn’t make it any less awful. In fact it makes it worse because the dread is part of the sick fucking fun of the horror and the torture. Everything is horrid. Everything is awful.

 

“You smell like another alpha,” He begins slowly, pretending to be calm and collected before he winds up to deliver the final blow. Harry has survived seven months of pure torture, by some stroke of luck, but with the wicked glint of his alpha’s eyes he knows for sure he will not make it out alive.

 

Harry doesn’t respond from where he’s standing by the doorway quivering like a fucking leaf. He has this moment where he realizes that his entire life has just been him, being ordered around by everyone else, relocated as they please, doing as they please, everything. Has he ever made a decision for himself, or has he always been ruled by someone else? The oppression expands upon the line of his life, all the way back to his earliest memories, so much that it consumes him. He can never escape it. Even when he was in college before the bad thing happened and he thought he was all independent and autonomous because he didn’t have an alpha and thought he didn’t need him. Even when he was out late at night cutting it close to his heat because he wasn’t going to let a little omega weakness stop him from living his life.

 

Well it did. It really did stop him; it really did fuck up his entire life. Everything is ruined, and it has been from that stupid day when he stupidly decided that he was somehow strong enough to push it a little close instead of just going home and waiting it out. Everything became ruined the second he decided he was somehow on the same level as alphas and betas in the way that he didn’t need to hide himself just because of his own stupid biology. Well the truth is he _is_ below the others and weaker than them too, and the social hierarchy makes sense because apparently he can’t do anything right. He can’t even stay out of trouble.

 

So he comes to his final conclusion, and he accepts it with grace. It is this: That he, Harry Styles, tall lanky ugly omega of Cheshire (relocated to Cleveland relocated to Kewadin relocated back to Cheshire), deserves whatever he gets. He deserves this.

 

All of this goes through his mind the moment his alpha comments on Louis’ smell on him. The smell that won’t go away. The smell that means nothing other than sex. And it may be unwarranted or stupid but Harry feels this sinking sensation of guilty seep through his veins, and it _suffocates_ him in a way, stunning him into stillness. Guilt because he slept with another alpha when he was already bonded. Guilt and shame and humiliation, mixed in with that familiar self-disgust. Self-hatred.

 

He cowers but does not move away, bending his head down but tilting it to the side to expose his neck in submission. Offering up his skin and his body and his soul because this is what he deserves, really truly it is, this life of slavery and subordination, this eternity of complete servitude.

 

His alpha says something about punishing him but the words wash over Harry like the ripples of a river. In a way he hears them and in a way he doesn’t.

 

But god, does he feel them.

 

Punishment comes in the form of blows and strikes to the face and stomach, so hard he sees stars and vaguely wonders how he’s still alive. The fear has subsided and been replaced by more acute emotions like agony laced with guilt and the underlining knowledge that he deserves this. He deserves this.

 

He doesn’t remember falling to his knees but at one point he opens his eyes and realizes he’s collapsed on the carpet, taking each hit with little complaint aside from the tears and the shaking. He doesn’t even shy away from his alpha’s hand after a while, just lets him hit him and kick him and pummel him into the ground, completely destroying him. Bones must be broken, and bruises have already formed, and in some places he has been hit so hard and with so much force that the skin has split open and now oozes with dark blood that smells like iron and fear. It makes him woozy, just like the agony, but he doesn’t pass out. Not yet.

 

The second act of the play is this: tearing off the omega’s clothes. His alpha has some _thing_ with it, some _thing_ he finds so endearing to tear the fabric beneath his fingers, to feel his skin so exposed and opened up like an unwilling flower to the pouring rain of a thunderstorm. It makes him feel powerful, maybe, in the way he can rid the omega of his humanness, and degrade him to an object in the simplest action. It works.

 

Act three is the real degradation, one that makes Harry shake and quiver with a newfound fear and a newfound shame, because it is awful and horrid and the exact composition of his nightmares but somehow there is still some part of his body that wants this in a way, some part of him that craves this, and it sickens him, it does, it does, it does.

 

His alpha pulls him up from his crumpled state on the floor, just to throw him against the wall so hard his forehead smacks against it and his vision goes black for an elongated moment. When he regains sight his vision swims in and out of focus and everything is blurry through his tears anyways, so he just closes his eyes and whimpers and sobs, not caring about the sounds anymore. He’s completely naked now and his body feels pink and new from the months of being touched only softly, not harsh grazes to his skin, no bruises or welts or scraps to mar it. Though now it is bruising quite quickly and if he were to open his eyes he would see the black and blue and purple all over his skin, creating constellations of pain and wounds so ghastly yet so beautiful.

 

So he closes his eyes because this is when it hurts the most. When he is so completely helpless, worthless, wasted away to nothing. He closes his eyes as harsh fingers trail down his back, burning his skin and leaving flames licking in their wake. He closes his eyes as his hands travel lower, gripping his bum, burning burning burning. He closes his eyes still as he feels traitorous slick leaking out and down his thighs because even in his fear there is arousal and if there is arousal that means in some capacity he wants this, right?

 

He wants this, somehow someway in whatever shape or form some stupid disgusting part of who he is is yearning for this animalistic touch with primal need. The feeling is as old as humanity and in some way, shape, or form, this is exactly what keeps the line going, this is exactly what keeps humanity from extinction. This is procreation in its rawest form, except for the goddamn fact that Harry is infertile, because he isn’t thinking about that right now, because this is what it is, an alpha knot shoved up his bum against his will, maybe, if you look at it like that, but somehow Harry’s bum is leaking slick so is he really being forced if there’s obviously some part of his body that is welcoming the knot like it wants it inside now and there’s nothing else to do about it?

 

The truth is that Harry is wrong, completely wrong, but he doesn’t know it at all. He thinks because his body is leaking slick it means in some way he wants his alpha to rape him but that’s just a blatant lie, completely incorrect and even ignorant. He thinks he deserves this because he is a bonded omega who slept with another alpha but the truth is no one on earth ever deserves to be touched as unkindly as he has been touched. The truth is that Harry has it all wrong but he will never know, not at the rate this is going, not with the way his alpha plants these little thoughts in his mind to make him think that he somehow deserves all the wicked and evil things that happen to him.

 

For some reason his alpha decides not to knot him like this, pressed up against the wall, and Harry doesn’t understand but for a second he thinks maybe he’s stopping to let him go. Giving him a break, even, because he feels bad or something. He thinks he’s getting off this once, getting lucky, somehow escaping the torture.

 

But then his alpha is pushing him to his knees again, and spreading Harry’s mouth open with his fingers, ordering him to keep it like that, all wide and gaping, the perfect picture of submission. Harry’s eyes are now wide open in shock and fear and now he really knows what’s coming, and can’t believe that for a second he thought his alpha had some compassion, when he was really just shifting their position.

 

Of everything they have ever done, Harry hates this the most. His knees will ache after some time, and that’s the best part of it, because everything else is worse. He hates it, that suffocating feeling of being stuffed full, not being able to breathe, not being able to _move_ -

 

His alpha shoves his knot down his throat and Harry chokes on it, tears spilling freely from his eyes and running down his cheeks like a rainstorm, and yes, everything is stormy, everything is scary, everything is horrible. He has fear crawling up from his lungs which are exploding with the lack of oxygen and he desperately tries to calm down but his hyperventilating is making it difficult for him to breathe, and he inhales wildly through his nose but it isn’t working very well. He keeps trying to focus on that but there is the panicky feeling of suffocation making him sick to his stomach, his fluttering heart turning to hammering, and this is horror, and this is fear, and this is dread.

 

It’s such a contrast from a few days ago when he was near someone who smelled like pine needles and autumn leaves and everything was fine then. For a single month all he felt were soft comforting touches running up his arms and his sides and his tummy just to soothe him, somehow washing his skin clean of all the bad touches without even using soap and water.

 

He doesn’t know how it happens. One moment Harry is staring up at his alpha who is fucking his mouth with his knot, spreading his lips so wide the skin cracks and threatens to split and drip blood, and there is burning everywhere, this burning fear and pain. Then the next moment he is squeezing his eyes shut tight and imaging he is far away, somewhere so far away from here and everything is okay. Everything is okay.

 

Through the horror and the agony he feels sunshine on his skin, so he lets his mind wander and drift even as he dissociates. It feels as though his body is dipping deep into a vat of honey, and eventually everything is sticky and all the sound is muffled. It feels silky and soft to his skin, and he relishes in it, enjoying it even, leaching off the comfort because he feels like he needs it desperately. It is a comfort, and he feels wrapped up in this blanket of soft sticky honey, and everything is muted and muffled and somehow so calming and peaceful.

 

He drifts in the vat of honey, warm and smooth beneath his touch, and as he drifts he dreams of that golden sunshine. That sand between his toes. That blue water spread out in front of him like eternity, straight to the horizon where the hue of blue turns from tinted green to tinted violet and sea meets sky. And then he thinks of those lips on his, so soft and warm and caring, and that gentle tongue licking into his mouth out of care and curiosity, so gentle like he’s afraid Harry will break.

 

Break. Break.

 

Harry will break.

 

_Harry will break._

 

The recognition is startling but not enough to startle him from his dream. He sees Louis now, clearly, standing over him in the hotel room, and he thinks _yes, this is it, he is going to save me once and for all_. He is so relieved that the tears in his eyes turn from fearful to happy. He tries to gasp for breath but realizes his throat is still jammed with something, and this makes him furrow his brows in confusion, because Louis is standing above him with a gentle hand out to help him up and guide him out the door, so why is there something in his mouth?

 

It brings him back to reality. He opens his eyes, blinking slowly, and sees his alpha still there, knot popped, locked in Harry’s mouth. His lips are still stretched and his knees are still aching and his tears are still falling. So the dream with Louis wasn’t real.

 

Only a moment later, Harry passes out.

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

At three in the morning he wakes up and he’s still being fucked, but somehow now he’s on the tile floor of the bathroom, and there’s blood weeping from a gash on his forehead.

 

He’s lying on his tummy and his alpha is behind him, on top of him, but pulling out. Harry is exhausted and in pain and when his alpha pulls out, his hole clutches painfully around nothingness, burning from the harshness and haste. His alpha strikes him on the back of the head one more time, and it slams down against the tile again, smearing blood everywhere. Then he grips the omega by his hair and pulls him to his knees, ordering him to _Clean up. Using your tongue._

 

He has no choice. He looks beneath himself as sees a mess of blood, slick, and come marring the white tile floor. He doubts it has been cleaned recently but has no mind to worry about germs as he bends at the waist and brings his mouth to the floor, lapping up the mess with his tongue. It’s disgusting. It’s degrading. It makes him quiver with the absolute dread of being so degraded. Honor, pride, respect—none exist anymore, not for Harry. He licks the bathroom floor with his tongue because he has no choice, cleaning up his own blood, his own slick, and his own come.

 

Words cannot describe the torrent of emotions he feels, so dark and heavy they’re unbearable.

 

The rest of the night is much of the same, and Harry is so glad when he passes out again later.

 

He isn’t awake when his alpha sinks his teeth deep into Harry’s fading bondmark, making a new one that’s nice and bright and painful. His teeth are in so deep they’re millimeters away from actually killing him by puncturing his artery. With stupid luck, he doesn’t.

 

When Harry finally wakes up the next morning, dazed, disoriented, and confused, he realizes he’s on the floor beside the backseat of the car again.

 

His bondmark is aching so much, he brings a hand up to touch it and gasps at the sensitivity. And then he comprehends the new truth that his alpha has bitten him again.

 

And he will be his forevermore.

 

He assumes they’re going to the airport. With blissful realization he comes to terms with the fact that he just doesn’t care.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for this chapter- for the way it's written and also the very depressing gruesome content. It was so difficult to write but I really needed to update. It's no excuse but I've been so sick the past few days and I sprained my ankle last week so I'm kind of a mess.
> 
> At the very least I hope this chapter makes sense and pushes the story forward. Essentially what you should get from this is that Harry's alpha moved to the UK after the AORS rescued Harry, and he became very close with Harry's mum. So when Harry showed up he took the opportunity to steal him away and they're going back to the US again.
> 
> Good things are coming, I promise.
> 
> Your lovely comments are so helpful to me. I reread a lot of them while trying to write this chapter because I really needed the motivation. Thank you for being so kind <3
> 
> xx Adri


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that I've made everyone hate me because of Chapter 15, I can post something a little happier. Thanks for sticking around if you're still here. I love you.

 

 

 

Little empty nest in the dry grass; roadkill  
a few meters over. I sleep with the wolves.

Bleach white winter moon,  
night sky gorged with stars.

We are well-fed but timorous. Fingers like reeds.  
We save no-one. We bite hard. Wolf heaven,

always. Little tinamou trill,  
soft feathers in teeth. Jaws. Spittle.

The white of it.  
I give you a rat-trap snap of blood,

deep in the meat of your shoulder. There.  
Now the other wolves know you’re mine.

That’s a kindness. Take it. Thank me for it.  
All curled up like a drowned spider. Dark legs.

I’ll keep you warm. Lay right over you. Yes.  
Warm.

 

_ —M. McCoy, “Lit: Bile” _

 

 

 

The sky is dark. They’re at the airport. One moment Harry is following mindlessly behind his alpha. The next he is thinking.

 

Thinking, because there are words in his mind. Words, like letters combined with meaning. A memory. They don’t make sense but somehow they do. He sees sunshine and brightness and of course he’s thinking of Louis again because isn’t he always thinking of Louis? The sky may be dark but Harry’s mind is bright because he is clinging onto these memories like little nuggets of gold that somehow warm his skin and spark his heart. Thinking.

 

The words: _This is your life. This is your life, god damn it._

 

When they were sitting on the couch and Harry was worrying over calling his mum, Louis was listening to him very intently and rubbing his tummy to make him feel better. And. He had said these words. These words.

 

_This is your life. This is your life._

 

They swim around through his mind in a dizzying haze, but he hears them with great clarity. And they are enough to make him stop walking for a second.

 

This is your life.

 

Harry’s sudden stop makes his alpha whip around, and annoyed look on his face. The omega cowers a bit but knows he can’t be hit when they’re in public like this, so he doesn’t back down.

 

“What’s with you?”

 

His alpha has since lifted the no-talking rule, but since they’re in public there are still orders that he cannot scream or cry for help. Still, he has the words when he says, very calmly, matter-of-factly, “I need to go to the bathroom.”

 

“Hold it.” They keep walking again.

 

Moments later, “I need to piss.”

 

“I told you to hold it.”

 

“But alpha, I _really_ need to go.” They stop walking again.

 

Maybe it’s Harry calling him alpha that gets to him. Maybe he doesn’t want to deal with an omega who pees himself. Maybe it’s just the fact that the bathrooms are right there, in front of them, and they still have hours until their flight. It doesn’t matter why. Harry’s alpha rolls his eyes and then nods, giving Harry permission.

 

He scurries away, straight to the omega bathrooms where no alphas are allowed, and the doors are monitored with scent detectors. Alarms go off when alphas try to enter. Harry has never really thought about it before but public restrooms may be one of the safest places for omegas.

 

Inside, he breathes this great sigh of relief as soon as the door closes behind him, and this heaviness that has been in his chest for the longest time is somehow lifted. It’s insane. Yesterday he felt a sense a liberation with the realization that he just doesn’t care anymore, but now he is feeling new liberation with the sensation of newfound hope.

 

Still, there is something ugly uncurling in his chest and as he bends over the sink to get a good look at himself in the mirror, he finds something horrid and wretched staring back. An omega with dark, heavy eyes, frightened lips, and trembling hands. His hair is a mess and his skin is so pale it seems translucent. There are bruises covering his face and he wonders why no one stopped to say anything when they were walking through the airport. As he caresses the particularly nasty one on his jaw bone he thinks that maybe this is too common for anyone to say anything. He can’t even begin to count all the times he’s seen an alpha dragging around an omega in public, that poor omega with the shifty eyes and the shaking hands. That omega is Harry. For once he wonders why all his life he has never said anything to help those strangers.

 

The door to the bathroom, which is empty besides Harry, opens again, and Harry has this irrational fear that it will be his alpha coming to get him even though he knows it’s not, knows it can’t be. Still his eyes fly to the door and he sees a small omega woman entering the bathroom with a makeup bag in her hands. She sets it down on the counter at the sink beside Harry, stares at her reflection for a second, and then glances over at Harry as if noticing him for the first time.

 

Harry wonders what she sees when she looks over. He may have just observed his own reflection in the mirror but he can’t trust his own eyes anymore. Everything is confusing and he no longer knows what he looks like. He thinks of this pathetic scared omega, but then he met Louis and Louis was always telling him how strong he was, and last night Harry’s alpha was calling him an ugly disgusting whore, and Harry’s mum just treats him like a child. So now he just doesn’t know who he is.

 

“Are you alright, love?” She asks, in that same quite, meek voice all omegas use when they’re talking to strangers.

 

Harry braces his hands on the sink but turns to look at her, and sees her worried expression. She is young, maybe in her early thirties, and wearing a stiff pencil skirt and a pretty black blouse. She must be on a business trip. It isn’t exactly rare for omegas to work in offices, but there definitely is a stigma against it, and when Harry sees this stranger he feels a small swell of pride for his own gender.

 

Then he glances back to the mirror in front of him, seeing himself staring back, and finally notices the tears streaming down his face. Oh. Of course she doesn’t think he’s okay.

 

“Umm, my alpha,” Harry whispers, not sure there are words for his situation right now. He doesn’t know how to describe it—everything is a mess.

 

“Are they here right now? At the airport?”

 

“Yes,” Harry breathes, eyes wide as he remembers his fear. He is shaking again. “Yes, right outside the bathroom.”

 

She approaches him slowly with the care only an omega can show and gently places her palm on his upper arm. Warmth spreads through his body at the simple but kind touch of a stranger and everything is spinning again, maybe it never stopped.

 

“Can I help you, love? How can I help you?”

 

“I- I need to get away-“

 

“To where? Do you need a plane ticket?”

 

“I- I don’t know, I have nowhere to go…”

 

“What about your mum, omega, where does she live?”

 

“I can’t go back to her. There was- I can’t.”

 

“Okay omega, it’s okay, just breathe, baby, it’ll be okay. I’ll help you. Do you have anyone else? Family, friends-“

 

“There’s someone. One person. But…” He sucks in a deep breath and sinks into her arms which encompass him. Warmth is spreading through his entire body at the embrace of a stranger willing to help and he is so grateful it makes his heart burst. She doesn’t have to do this but she is. “I- I don’t know. I don’t know how to contact him.”

 

“Do you know where he is, then?”

 

“The US. Michigan.”

 

“We can get you a flight there, maybe… Can you call anyone to come get you? Can you find a way to contact him?” She rubs his back comfortingly, makeup long forgotten, and squeezes him tight. “It’s gonna be okay, omega. Have you tried calling the AORS? They can help you, omega, definitely more than I can.”

 

Harry’s heart thudthudthuds in response and he finds himself gasping for breath. “The AORS? You know how to call them?”

 

She looks at him like he’s strange and maybe he is because the number for the AORS is something every omega should have, probably, but somehow Harry hadn’t even known it had existed before they rescued him. And then he thinks, why didn’t anyone tell him? Why not?

 

She pulls out her phone and dials the number but doesn’t press call just yet. “If your alpha is waiting outside he’s probably getting impatient. If you want me to buy you a plane ticket I have to go now. Where do you want it to be?”

 

“Anywhere in the US,” Harry gasps, heart clenching, lungs burning. “The closer to Michigan the better but it doesn’t matter. Just as long as it’s in the US. Thank you so much.”

 

She nods quickly. “Call them, okay? And wait right here. I’ll go get a ticket as quick as I can. Stay here, love. I’ll be right back.”

 

She squeezes his hands tight and Harry squeezes right back, so desperate to convey his gratitude. He has tears in his eyes as he thanks her over and over again, and she kisses him on the forehead before rushing out of the bathroom in the hopes of finding Harry a flight to the US. He doesn’t know how they’re going to do this but he has to try.

 

So he presses the call button on the stranger’s phone and his heart is beating right out of his chest. An unfamiliar voice answers the phone, saying, “Hi, this is the Abused Omega Rescue Society, how may we be of service?”

 

And Harry is gasping loudly into the receiver because it actually worked. He spills out, “Louis Tomlinson. Please, I need to speak with Louis Tomlinson.”

 

“Agent Tomlinson is on an assignment right now. I can direct you to one of our other agents-“

 

“No, please, it’s an emergency, I need Louis Tomlinson, please, you have to connect me, please-“

 

The person on the other end of the line doesn’t say anything else but just sighs heavily, and then there’s a small click and Harry thinks that maybe this means the call has been transferred. The phone rings for a while again and Harry is standing there in the airport bathroom, staring at his shaky reflection in the mirror, wondering how on earth he got to be exactly where he is right now.

 

The call connects. Someone picks up.

 

“Hello?”

 

It’s a familiar voice. Light and airy just like that first day when they rescued him and Harry was so surprised that an alpha could have such a high, light voice.

 

“Louis,” Harry breathes, feeling that downpour of emotions like a storm or even a tsunami, the waves crashing against the shore that is his heart, and everything is compressed into one tiny atom like the start of the big bang. His heart was beating fast but the moment he heard Louis’ voice it stilled to a slow lull and he is so amazed that even thousands of miles away the alpha can still calm him to no end.

 

“Harry? Is that-“ There’s the sound of fumbling, like the phone is dropping or something, and a muttered shit rings through the air before his voice is clear again. “Is that you?”

 

“ _Yes_ ,” The omega breathes, “Yes, it is, please-“

 

“Where are you? You’re back in the UK, aren’t you? Is everything okay? I miss you-“

 

“Louis,” Harry cuts off, desperate, and god, Louis doesn’t know. Harry doesn’t know how to tell him, if there are even words to say what he needs to say. “Louis, my alpha, he- He came back, and I don’t know what to do, I’m so scared, he- He bit me, Louis, he bit me and my bondmark had just started fading but now it’s all dark again and it hurts and he- He-“

 

“Harry.” This is all Louis says but it’s enough to stop Harry from blubbering and gasping for breath in between words. “Harry, where are you right now? Are you with him? Are you safe? Tell me because I need to know right now.”

 

“I’m- We’re at the airport. I’m in the omega bathroom and he’s right outside.”

 

“God. Okay, um-“

 

“There was this omega lady who came in and she gave me her phone, Louis she is so nice she gave me her phone even though she didn’t have to and she’s buying me a plane ticket and I am so so grateful to her, I don’t know how to tell her, Louis-“

 

“Okay. Okay Harry, that’s good. We’re gonna get you out of there, and we’re gonna get you home to me all safe and everything okay? Everything will be alright. Just don’t leave the bathroom until you have the ticket, okay?”

 

“Okay, okay,” Harry chants, opening his eyes from when he was squeezing them shut tight as if that would make Louis’ voice even more clear in his mind, and he realizes he has slid to the floor and now he is collapsed against the wall with his knees to his chest. “Louis, I- He hurt me again… He touched me, and I- I feel so gross, I don’t know what to do, it hurts so much and I’m so scared-“

 

“Shhh, omega it’s going to be okay. We’ll talk about it when I see you, baby. Just hang on for a little while longer until we’re together again. Everything will be okay. I promise. Now just stay on the phone with me baby. I missed you so much.”

 

“Me too,” He breathes, wrapping his arms around his knees and pulling them close. “I missed you more than anything.”

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

The omega returns ten minutes later looking very winded, like she ran all over the entire airport. But she’s holding a ticket in her hand and thrusting it in Harry’s face.

 

He lowers the phone from his ear and takes the ticket, clutching it to his chest.

 

“Your alpha is right outside and he looks very… livid. He’s about two minutes away from storming in here but if he does the alarms will go off, so you’re safe in here, okay? I got you a ticket to New York, I’m sorry, I couldn’t afford the others, this one was the cheapest one.”

 

Harry stands up and hugs her tightly, crying “Thank you, thank you,” and kissing her cheek. “Please, you’ve helped so much, thank you, I will never forget this.”

 

“Alright, you’re very welcome omega. I’m not leaving you just yet, though, we have to get you past your omega. The flight leaves in an hour, thank god not like five hours or anything, but you’ll be here for a little while and I need to make sure you’re safe.”

 

“When does your flight leave?”

 

“It already left.”

 

“What?!”

 

She waves her hand like it’s nothing. “What, did you think I would just leave you here without even trying to help?”

 

“Well…”

 

“No, us omegas have to stick together. No one else stands up for us but we can stand up for each other.”

 

Harry gushes a million thank you’s again into the swet-smelling skin of this omega he doesn’t even know, and she just holds him for a moment and ricks him back and forth. Then Harry remembers the phone in his hands and lifts it to his ear again, quickly telling Louis what happened.

 

“Okay baby, that’s great, I’ll be at JFK when you get there. And tell her I said thank you a million times over. Be safe, Harry.”

 

“You too. Please, god, I-“ He pauses, reeling, thinking about just spitting out what he’s trying to say. I love you. It isn’t the right time. He doesn’t know how he stops himself but he does. He can’t deal with this now. He loves Louis but he isn’t sure he’s exactly allowed to. “I- Please, Louis, I miss you so much, please be safe.”

 

“I miss you too Harry. We’ll be together soon.”

 

Harry doesn’t hang up. He just thrusts the phone into the omega’s hands and starts bawling. She ends the call and holds him close again, rocking him a few more times for comfort before pulling away. She clasps the ticket in his hands.

 

“Okay, now listen, omega. Your flight is at Gate B.” She gives him directions on how to get there, and they are very simple but Harry is afraid he will mess them up. “It leaves in less than an hour, which isn’t much time, but if you’re waiting around here you have to be careful because your alpha is here. Now we have to get you out of this bathroom and he’s right outside. I can distract him while you run but then after that I don’t know what’s going to happen. We just have to hope he doesn’t find you. Try to go somewhere where there are tons of people so even if he does find you he can’t just drag you away.” The door opens and another omega steps in, going straight to one of the stalls. “We have to go now.”

 

“Will I see you again?”

 

“I don’t know. Maybe. Probably not. I’m going to distract your alpha and you’re going to run. I’m going out first. Count to thirty and then run. Go straight to Gate B and get ready for your flight. You have your passport and everything?”

 

Harry pulls it out of his back pocket to show her before holding it very tightly in a vice-like grip, suddenly afraid to lose it. He does the same with the ticket.

 

“Good. Alright omega, it’s time for me to go. I’m rooting for you.”

 

“Thank you,” Harry gasps, “Thank you so much.”

 

She nods tersely and then turns around, not saying another word, and exiting the bathroom like a soldier going off to war, brave and fearless. Determined.

 

Harry counts to thirty and then follows, bolting as inconspicuously as he can, following the directions he memorized which will take him right to Gate B. He doesn’t even look back at his alpha and the stranger omega for fear that he sees him escaping.

 

It doesn’t matter. He’s running and bumping into people and suddenly he’s there, in the waiting area, waiting for his flight to be called. He whips around wildly, looking behind himself, and seeing no one trailing behind him, no one screaming bloody murder, no big alpha chasing after him. He sighs, slouching down into a seat, surrounded by hundreds of other people paying no mind to Harry at all.

 

All that’s left to do is wait.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

When Harry was a kid, before he even presented as an omega, he would always wonder what true love was. He didn’t think he saw it in his parents, who were too loud and always angry and yelling at each other, always screaming and fighting at night when they thought Harry and Gemma were asleep nd didn’t here. They didn’t know that Harry would be on the floor of his bedroom, cheek pressed to the carpet as he watched the feet in the hallway outside from the crack beneath the door as they fought in whisper-screams so quite yet so loud all at once.

 

That wasn’t love.

 

Then when Harry presented as an omega, and finally got over the initial but momentous shame of it all, he thought, one day I am going to bond with an alpha who truly loves me. And in this thought he felt this new excitement bubbling in his veins at the very idea of finding someone to mate with, someone who loves him, and bonding with them. Having kids with them. Living happily ever after like in a fairy tale. It happened, he knew it did, even if he didn’t see it in his own life, with his own eyes.

 

Call him conventional but he wanted it all, every alpha-omega cliché in the world. He wanted to be courted in the old-fashioned way with an alpha taking him on dates and giving him butterflies in his stomach, bringing him flowers and chocolates and cooking him meals just to woo him. He wanted the full experience, every stupid flutter in his stomach like butterflies and fireworks and things that are never painful and just full of happiness and excitement, every chaste touch that meant _someday, forver_. He wanted to fall in love slowly, but surely, with no doubts and no fears.

 

He wanted his dream alpha to get down on one knee and ask to bond him, to spend their forever together. He wanted to maybe have tears in his eyes as he said yes and pulled him up and kissed him deeply. He wanted a ring and everything, and then a romantic night with sex and love before they finally bonded, teeth sinking in his neck like ecstasy and affection. He wanted to wake up the next morning with his alpha tracing meaningless shapes into the skin of his tummy and maybe saying, _I want kids with you. I want to have kids with you._

 

And Harry wanted to be able to say _yes, yes, yes_ , and then to actually be able to do it, to actually be able to have kids with an alpha and create a family full of all this love and softness. He wanted to build the best nest in the world on his bed and invite his alpha inside and sleep there every night, where they felt warm and safe, and then once they had kids to have them sleep there too, all in one warm pile where everyone was protected.

 

He wanted that so much it hurt sometimes just thinking about it. He was a progressive omega but nothing could stop this desire from proliferating in his mind and becoming the one selfish thing he wanted most in the world. He just wanted to love someone, and to be loved, and to create love, and to show that same love to his own children.

 

It was too much to ask. Definitely too much. Instead he got a couple years of longing and then one horrid night in a dark scary parking garage. He got an abusive alpha who made him lick his own come and blood from the floor with his tongue. He got a monster who tortured him for months. He got a body that is incapable of pregnancy even to this day. He got a lifetime of trauma and fear.

 

And he burns with it. He burns with this anger in his chest at being cheated out of a life every omega deserves. He burns and aches with this longing for any semblance of safety and protection, no matter how small. That’s all he wants at this point. Just to be safe. And out of all the adjectives in the entire English language, safe is the word that applies to him the least.

 

Safety. That’s all he fucking wants.

 

Harry wraps his arms around himself, still waiting for his flight. The more seconds that tick by, the more he’s expecting his alpha to come behind him and start pulling him by his hair or something.

 

But it never happens. It just. Doesn’t. And then the flight is boarding and he’s walking down the aisle and finding his seat, shaking, and thinking, I’m doing this, I really am, I’m escaping, for once in my life I’m escaping.

 

And it was all his decision. His decision to finally say _no, this is my life. This is my life and I’m sick of people pretending like it’s theirs_. Finally saying No. No.

 

He definitely had a ton of help and he’s so grateful to the omega in the bathroom who asked him if he was okay. In a moment of distress he realizes he never even got her name. And she paid nearly six hundred dollars for Harry’s flight. And she somehow distracted Harry’s alpha long enough for him to get on the plane. God, he hopes she’s okay. If there are angels on earth Harry is sure she is one of them. It makes him weepy at the thought, and he vows to be as kind to other omegas as she was to him.

 

What had she said? Something about needing to stand up for each other, because no one else stands up for them? She’s right. She’s so glaringly right, and it makes Harry’s heart ache.

 

He can’t even believe it when the flight is taking off and his alpha hadn’t even stormed in demanding Harry. And he’s thinking, _this is it. For once in my life I am running away on my own. For once in my life I am escaping. For once in my life I am saying no._

 

The flight is one of the longest he’s ever been on, even longer than the one a few days ago when his mum forced him away from probably the only source of positivity and hope in his entire life.

 

And then he’s thinking, my mum. God. He starts shaking with fear again which happens so often now it must be turning into a habit. But he’s sitting there on the plane thinking that his alpha somehow found out where Harry’s mum lived, flew out to the UK, and even fucking bought a house on the same street. He became friends with her, even, charmed his way into her life under the guise of an overly-friendly neighbor, knowing that at some point Harry would turn up. Harry, his omega. God.

 

He’s shaking because he’s worried for his mum and his sister but there’s nothing to do. His mum was tricked by this awful alpha, and everything was backwards because she was pissed at Louis but so openly accepted the very monster who hurt her son, and she didn’t even know it.

 

He doesn’t know what to do. There isn’t much of a way to protect her. Obviously he should call her and explain everything, but he doesn’t know if she’ll really believe him. Well, if she doesn’t that’s on her. And anyways, she’s an alpha and she can take care of herself. Still, it feels very wrong to leave her when Harry’s alpha is probably going back to her right now, feral and livid.

 

He has to trust her, and he has to trust the truth. The truth will make itself known, and soon probably. For now Harry has to take care of himself. So he will. He’s doing this for himself.

 

He has the window seat again and he enjoys it, staring down at the clouds with a lightness in his heart. The lightness isn’t necessarily a good thing but it’s there. Part of it was formed because his dreams were crushed and he had no choice but to let them go. At least he is no longer weighed down by these stupid boxed-up department-store commercial-ready dreams. But the lightness is there because he has a bit of hope, too.

 

Hope is stupid but light and bright. The best thing about hope is that it’s painful, but in its own way that actually feels good. It feels like a relief.

 

Maybe he’s relieved, too, because he’s going to see Louis. Maybe that’s it.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey babes, as I said earlier thanks for sticking around. I know it kind of feels like we're back at square one but this is important. I love all of your comments on the last chapter even if they are critical. Part of writing is creating a story that makes people a little bit angry, so I did my job. Now that that's over and I scared away probably 90% of readers, the real fluff can start. Get ready, because I'm a hoe for hurt/comfort AU's and I am so ready to get things moving on.
> 
> I've never written a fic this long before which is quite exciting. It was supposed to wrap up a while ago but I've written a fic like this once before where I rushed the recovery process and I just can't let that happen again.
> 
> I always love to hear what you think about the story and what you predict will happen. I def have to catch up on replying to comments but please know I read all of them and they make me so happy.
> 
> This is getting really long but it's important for you guys to know that I adore every single one of you that decided to stay. Thank you for reading my work and for sticking by me. Now get ready for tooth-rotting fluff because it's coming and you guys definitely deserve it after all of this.
> 
> xx Adri


	17. Chapter 17

 

 

 

I want to be open for you  
Like the moonflower at dusk,  
pale and luminescent  
in the heat.

Like the doors of a church  
carved into something forgiving -  
I want to be a place for you to rest.

Honey,  
please listen when I tell you this.  
Love is safe.  
Do you hear me?

I’ve put all the pain away.  
Everything sharp is wrapped up.  
Everything loud is hushed.

Love is the wind that makes the leaves dance,  
You are the softest part of the morning.

 

_ —Emery Allen _

 

 

 

 

By the time the flight lands Harry is so antsy he feels like he’s going to pass out from half-anxiety and half-excitement. He is still shaking like a leaf from all that has happened within the past seventy-two hours, and everything feels vaguely like a dream in a way that he can’t believe any of it is real. Especially the fact that he is going to see Louis again.

 

And on top of it all… Harry had just. Rebelled against his alpha. Just like that. Like it was simple. Like it was easy. Like he had known it was what he was going to do all along.

 

Realistically, it was not a plan devised after many sleepless nights of fear. No, it was just a spur of the moment decision. In the one moment he was trailing after him, accepting his fate. In the next he was blatantly lying to his face and devising a plan for escape. As soon as he got into that bathroom he had known he was relatively safe for the time being, but he hadn’t planned far enough ahead to know what to do from there. He had only hoped someone would be there to help him.

 

Then the bathroom was empty and he hadn’t known what to do at all. He remembers staring at his reflection and just being so confused, realizing that for the very first time he brazenly went against his very own alpha. It was difficult, way more difficult than he wanted it to be just to stand up for himself for once in his life. But he had done it. Every atom in his entire body had been screaming at him to just _submit_ and _obey_ and follow his alpha’s orders but he had chosen his own life instead.

 

He is convinced that the lovely omega who entered the bathroom was a literal angel sent by the universe to help him. When he thinks about it now she is the sole reason why he managed to escape. In a million different ways he owes his life to her.

 

Harry nearly runs off the plane and past the baggage claim because he doesn’t have any luggage anyways. All he has are the clothes on his back—pajamas that look very well-worn. He gets swallowed in the crowd but desperately tries to find his way, feeling a lot like a tiny drop of water in an entire ocean.

 

He sees families reuniting and lovers saying goodbye and even a female alpha huddled up to her omega in the corner by the gift shop, scenting her omega with her hand on her neck as they kiss. He sees betas fighting over luggage and an alpha police officer chasing after another alpha who had possibly mugged the very frightened and confused omega standing there empty-handed. He sees children crying for their mums and dads, and others sprawled out on the floor exhausted from travel and jetlag.

 

And then he sees him. In the middle of the crowd wearing gray threadbare joggers and a white t-shirt, a duffel bag on his shoulder with the strap clutched in his hand. Walking forward with purpose, looking around like he’s searching for someone. Searching for Harry.

 

The world stops for a moment—the noise, the movement, all of it. For just a millisecond Harry is frozen and so is the rest of the world, and it’s like every cliché moment in a movie where the protagonist is finally reunited and the world just goes quiet, but he _feels_ it, he does, in the way his heart stutters in his chest and the world just stops.

 

He throws caution to the wind and runs, sprints even, barreling forward just straight towards Louis because everything is a mess but nothing feels like it’s a mess when he sees Louis there in front of him. When he’s ten feet away Louis finally sees him but there’s no time for him to respond. There’s barely even time for him to brace himself before Harry is catapulting himself at Louis, jumping on him and attacking him in a hug and wrapping his legs around Louis’ hips and squeezing him so tightly neither of them can breathe.

 

Harry buries his face in Louis’ neck, breathing in pine and sea and summer, like sand and earth and lake water and alpha. He licks at the skin there just to get the taste on his tongue and then he starts crying because he’s just so damn happy and relieved. The alpha smells like safety and protection and _home_. Harry had been so worried and afraid but now he just feels safe and protected and _happy_.

 

Neither one of them says a single thing as they just keep hugging, Louis’ hands on Harry’s thighs to hold him up as they stand in the middle of the airport in a warm and exciting embrace.

 

Harry thinks that his entire life is confusing and he doesn’t know what he wants anymore. He was so afraid the first time he was rescued but now he doesn’t have any of that same fear, because he _knows_ Louis, and he’s aware Louis won’t hurt him. And then he thinks about all the pain he went through when he found out he was infertile, and of course he still desperately wants kids more than anything but for now the thought that he can’t have them doesn’t hurt as much as it did when he first found out. He still doesn’t feel like an omega but in the wake of everything that has happened, he doesn’t think that matters much.

 

In fact it doesn’t matter at all when he’s in the arms of the only alpha in his entire life who has actually been kind enough to Harry to _listen_ to him for once. Harry has never met an alpha like Louis before and he knows he has to hold on tight if he wants to keep him.

 

And god, does he want to keep him. Harry wants to keep Louis forever, wants to be his fucking omega, wants him to be Harry’s alpha. Harry wants to belong to Louis and he’s not afraid to admit it anymore, not when he thinks Louis cares about him—actually fucking cares about him, more than he just cares about the omegas he saves, because Louis may want to protect all omegas but the lengths to which he went to protect Harry are lengths that people do not go through just to protect anyone.

 

For once Harry decides to be selfish because he wants Louis so badly he doesn’t care if Louis really wants him back or not. He’ll hang on forever if that’s what it takes. He isn’t ready to leave and he isn’t ready for Louis to move on and continue his life of rescuing others, leaving Harry completely behind. Harry doesn’t want to be forgotten. Harry wants to be loved.

 

He still has his face in the alpha’s neck, trying to lick his skin so all he smells like is Harry, when Louis finally sets him down. Harry doesn’t pull away until the alpha tugs on his hair a little bit to get his attention. He leans back sheepishly but keeps his arms attached to Louis like he’s afraid he’s just going to disappear.

 

“Hi alpha,” He says, quiet, shy, and a little bit embarrassed. There’s this aching feeling in him, and this soreness too, but his hands have stopped shaking and that’s a very good thing. Tears are prickling in the corner of his eyes, but they’re the good kind of tears. The happy kind. The relieved kind.

 

“Hi omega. You look like you got run over by a truck.”

 

“I kind of did, I guess. I mean, not literally, but-“

 

“I know. It’s okay.” Louis takes Harry’s face in his hands, cupping his cheeks gently, and pulls him close to kiss him softly on the lips. The press of their skin together in such an intimate way floods an infinity of warmth throughout Harry’s body. “You’re safe now, okay?”

 

He says “Okay,” and he means _I trust you_. His lips are tingling from the kiss and so is his whole entire body, and he thinks that maybe he kind of really wants to try that again.

 

They’re still holding each other very close in the middle of JFK and Louis is looking at Harry with his bottom lip beneath his teeth. He looks a bit worried. And happy and relieved, but worried. The omega thinks about it for a second, wondering why Louis would be worried when Harry is right here in his arms, and then it hits him that maybe it’s his scent, which smells disgustingly like his alpha. In this sense he is unable to hide from the horrors that unfolded so recently, the abuse and the torture and the trauma.

 

“What- Oh, I know, I smell really gross. I hate it.”

 

“Well I wasn’t thinking about that but now that you mention it, yeah, you really do stink. I like it much better when you smell like me. But fear not, little omega, I got us a nice hotel room in the city to stay the night, and I’ve been told it has a _very_ nice bathtub.”

 

“Really?” Harry is surprised (on top of how relieved he is, and how happy, and still how scared all at once too). He expected they would immediately get on another flight back to Detroit and then drive home from there. Never did he think they would spend the night in New York. But now that he knows it’s possible, the prospect is kind of exciting. Even through his fear. Even through his shakiness which has stopped ever since he saw Louis here today.

 

“Mhm. I think you and I both deserve a bit of luxury after that whole ordeal. I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted, and would rather enjoy a nice warm bubble bath.”

 

Louis’ eyes are tired and even though he tries to keep his voice light and teasing, Harry can hear the heaviness in the timbre and realizes that maybe Louis feels as lost as Harry does.

 

“Mmm, that sounds so nice,” The omega says, instead of any of the other thoughts in his messy mind. It’s the truth nonetheless.

 

“I know, right? Now let’s go, okay? I feel like you’ve had enough airports in the past few days to last a lifetime.”

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

So the omega is a little bit (read: a lot) in awe of the hotel when they arrive. He lobby has these high vaulted ceilings and a gorgeous enormous chandelier with crystals that scintillate in the low mood lighting. There are actual candles lit on the front desk and a shiny bell to ring too.

 

They choose to walk up the grand staircase instead of taking the elevator, at least for the first three floors. Then they get tired and a bit bored of looking around, although the hotel really is gorgeous, and Louis tugs Harry by the hand into the elevator that opens up with a melodic chime the moment his finger presses the button.

 

Their room is on the eleventh floor and when Louis opens the door with the wave of his keycard in front of the sensor the first thing Harry sees are the rose petals.

 

Louis of course notices them too, but steps inside and just offhandedly says, “Oh, they did the rose petals and everything. I was wondering if they would.”

 

Harry looks over curiously at the alpha, wondering what in the fuck he’s talking about, but then he gets sidetracked by the rose petals again and starts following their trail. At one point they branch off into two different paths so he goes to the right and pushes the door open, gasping when his eyes land on what’s beyond it.

 

It’s a bathroom. Probably the largest one he’s ever seen and the most luxurious by far. Everything is regal and shining and so pretty. But the bathtub. Oh god, the bathtub. He rushes towards it, still following the trail of petals right to where they lead to the tub and litter the bottom in pretty reds and pinks. They smell really nice too, leaving a wonderful fragrance in the air, and as a scenter Harry is typically very bothered by random scented objects, but this smell is so wonderful it’s nearly like a drug. He inhales and closes his eyes and is so happy and wondering how Louis got a room like this.

 

He turns around and sees the alpha standing there with a languid smile on his face, clearly pleased at Harry’s awestruck reaction. Louis has his hands clasped in front of him and he’s standing there just waiting for Harry to say something.

 

“What is this..?” Harry asks, very slowly, then biting the inside of his cheek to keep his very giddy smile at bay. He’s standing beside a large caddy full of various body washes and bubble baths with names in foreign languages that look lavish and magnificent.

 

“I asked for a nice room for two and they suggested a honeymoon suite so I said sure.”

 

“And they definitely didn’t disappoint,” Harry agrees. There are implications in the situation but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t exactly feel afraid like he used to feel and maybe that should scare him, because it kind of sheds light on the fact that maybe his experiences in the past few days have truly broken him. But he isn’t scared of this. Not now, not anymore. If he gives into the fear then he will be risking something great and he isn’t willing to take that chance.

 

“So you like it, then?”

 

“Well, I’ve only seen the bathroom,” He teases, the giddy smile showing through.

 

Together they exit the very large bathroom and continue following the trail of rose petals. It leads past a small but impressive kitchen and Harry stops to check on of the cupboards, surprised to see it contains a few plates and other glassware. Across from the kitchen is the living space complete with an L-shaped couch and flat screen TV. Harry is a little breathless when he looks out the floor-length windows to see the entire city laid out before him, bustling far below, but they keep walking, following the trail.

 

It leads to the bedroom, and at its sight Harry actually does gasp out loud.

 

The ceilings are higher in this room, opening up and expanding the natural light from the wall of floor-length windows like in the living room which overlook the city. The king-sized bed looks enormous and comfy and fluffy with a regal purple duvet and silk sheets a paler lavender. The rose petals are scattered throughout it but some are also placed carefully to create a large swooping heart right in the center of the bed.

 

Harry sits on the edge and turns to look at Louis. The alpha is just smirking back at Harry looking very pleased with himself.

 

“This is amazing,” Harry admits, because he definitely needs to give credit where credit is due. He runs his fingers over the purple comforter and relishes in the soft feeling. Then he gives in and collapses backwards until he’s completely on the divine mattress, rose petals fluttering around him.

 

Louis sighs feather-light and kneels on the mattress beside him, sitting down and placing his fingers on Harry’s tummy to tickle him. The omega squirms away giggling, so pleased and in bliss because the fear for once is gone and he’s so exhausted but so ready to forget it all.

 

“You’re lovely. I’m so glad you’re here with me right now.”

 

“Me too,” Harry whispers, voice just a murmur. “Safe with you.”

 

“Do you wanna talk about it now?”

 

“Can we take a bath first?”

 

His eyebrows raise, serious expression gone and replaced with a teasing smirk. “We?”

 

The omega rolls his eyes and sits up, giving Louis a tiny gentle shove. “The tub is big enough for two, if I recall correctly.”

 

“I would say you are correct.”

 

They amble to the bathroom and Harry strips out of his disgusting clothes on the way, leaving them strewn haphazardly throughout the hotel room and feeling a bit bad for marring the general splendor of the room. He’s too antsy to get rid of them to care, because they smell like his alpha which means they smell like everything scary and awful. In fact he never wants to see those clothes again. Maybe he should burn them or something.

 

Only after he’s completely naked does he realize the room is freezing, and that he’s shivering. Louis notices at the same time and wraps his arms around Harry to warm him up while he flicks the faucet to the warm water setting as they wait for the tub to fill. The omega sinks into his touch, just letting himself enjoy it for once, letting the alpha warm him up with his own pleasantly warm body. He’ll deal with the results and the consequences later. Not now.

 

“So what did you do when I was in hell?”

 

Louis gives him a little sideways glance that says he isn’t in the mood to joke about what Harry went through, but he stills smiles too. “Well, for starters I cried the entire first day you were gone.”

 

“Don’t lie.”

 

“It’s true!” Louis protests, voice a little shrieky, as he swirls his hand through the water. They left the rose petals in the bottom of the tub so now they’re swirling around too like little pockets of pretty red and pink in the crystal clear water.

 

Harry shoots off an unimpressed look. “Yeah, sure, as if alphas actually have the ability to cry.”

 

“We do, Harry, don’t be ridiculous. We just don’t do it very often. So consider yourself special, because I damn well _did_ cry over you.”

 

The omega isn’t convinced but he nods anyways.

 

“You don’t believe me,” Louis accuses, stripping out of his shirt.

 

“Ehh.” His voice is noncommittal.

 

“I also got a little teary that night before your mum came, when you let me in your nest. That counts as crying. Don’t you remember?”

 

“You did?” He whispers, voice in quiet awe. He’s sitting naked in front of an alpha and he’s the one in awe. But then again this alpha is telling him he got emotional when he saw Harry’s nest. And of course this makes his heart swell with pride, because Harry loves his nest and he is both very protective of it and very proud of it.

 

“Yeah, baby. There are no words for that. I know how special it is to you and it really means a lot that you invited me in.”

 

“Mmm,” He hums sadly, shifting to sit on the edge of the tub and slide his toes in the hot water. “I miss my nest.”

 

“We’ll be back in a day or two. It’s still there and I promise no one touched it.”

 

“I wanna make a new nest.”

 

“You do?” His brows are furrowed in the perfect picture of quiet confusion.

 

“Yeah, I wanna make another one. With you.”

 

“ _You do?_ ” This time around he sounds much more aghast, much more confused. And then Harry is thinking _God, what did I do to this alpha to make him think I don’t want him?_

 

“Mhm. We have a lot to talk about.”

 

The alpha’s hand is lifting and he’s reaching towards Harry’s neck, fingering lightly at the bright new bondmark, so glaring and obvious it’s a wonder he hasn’t comment on it until now. His soft touch makes Harry shudder with the hypersensitivity but it isn’t exactly the worst feeling.

 

“Yeah, I suppose we do,” He mutters.

 

They’re quiet after that, choosing not to talk until after the bath because whatever conversation they’re about to have is a bit much for when they’re both naked. Louis lets Harry choose the bubble bath, so he selects something that claims to be vanilla-rose scented, and it makes the water all shimmery and silky with billions of tiny sparkles tinted slightly pink. Using the lighter in his back pocket he sets the candles surrounding the tub alight and then flicks off the overhead light so the room is shadowy and illuminated only by the soft light of the candles.

 

Harry carefully sinks into the tub, sitting all the way back so he’s submerged up to his shoulders, clutching Louis’ hand very tightly so as not to slip. When he’s situated he looks back to the alpha who is still partially dressed and wonders out loud why he isn’t coming in.

 

“I’ll appreciate the view from here, I think,” Is his response.

 

“But you told me you love bubble baths,” Harry counters, affronted, feeling a little lonely in the large bathtub obviously meant for two. His mind rewinds back to that night when they slept on the beach beneath the stars, and they had stayed up so late just talking about anything and everything. One of the topics that had come up was the matter of bubble baths and Louis had gushed a bit about how much he enjoyed them. For a moment Harry doubts his own memory and Louis must see the confusion on his face because he steps in quickly before the omega can start questioning everything he thinks he knows about Louis.

 

“I’d love to, Harry, believe me. But if you’re looking for a platonic bathtub-sharing thing I don’t think I’m your alpha. And you can tell me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think you’re ready for anything to happen anyways.”

 

“But- Okay…”

 

“Sorry omega. You’ll still let me wash you though, yeah?”

 

“Yes, of course, please.” He’s nearly whining and it’s kind of embarrassing but again he has that mini little reminder of the new sudden truth that he just doesn’t care anymore. So what if he’s needy? He’s an omega, sometimes needy is all they are. Harry can’t really find anything wrong with that.

 

Using a washcloth from the rack of towels on the wall, Louis dips it into the warm scented water and then proceeds to wash Harry, very slowly and carefully. Taking his time, he uses gentle touches and a soft scrubbing motion to wash over his shoulders, his back, and his chest. He doesn’t do Harry’s neck yet and Harry is assuming Louis is saving it for last. To be helpful Harry sticks one leg out of the water at a time, resting his ankle on the edge of the tub and basically allowing Louis to touch him all over, so careful and attentive.

 

He tickles his toes making Harry thrash around in the water, splashing a bit out on the tile floor beside them. He kisses his ankles, very jokingly with big garish smooches, making Harry laugh so loud his voice echoes within the grandeur of the room, sounding otherworldly. He washes Harry’s shins and then trails his fingers up his thighs, his hands warm and gentle, making Harry blush so hard he has to cover his heated face with his dripping hands.

 

Louis asks Harry to stand up, and he does so, not just because an alpha is asking him to do something, but because he wants to do this, and whatever else he asks, for Louis. The alpha spends some time cleaning off his tummy, paying no mind to the bruises which litter his abdomen, coloring it ugly bluish black. Then he asks if he can wash Harry’s bum and again Harry says yes for the same reasons as before and also because for once he just wants to feel clean.

 

So he turns around and inhales sharply when he feels Louis’ hands on his skin. He flinches but he doesn’t mean to. He doesn’t want to. Louis must know this because he ignores it, brushing it off as a conditioned response to someone touching him in a place where he is most vulnerable.

 

Louis doesn’t comment on the bitemarks, either, which will someday turn to scars. Maybe five of them, full sets of teeth marks where his alpha had bitten down _hard_ on the curve of his bum and one on the junction between bum and thigh. Louis doesn’t say anything about them but Harry can feel it as he runs his fingers over the marks in silent horror or awe or whatever it may be. Harry doesn’t say anything either and just lets Louis do it. He wonders if Louis will ask about them now.

 

He doesn’t, though. He picks up the rag again and very slowly, very carefully slides it between his cheeks to clean him off at his very core. Louis is smart enough to know that the omega’s hole is very sore, so he is careful, and spends a bit of tentative time making sure he is clean there, making sure not to hurt him more. Harry feels raw and aching, and a shiver passes through his body when Louis touches him there, making him tremble. His inner omega is so confused, it doesn’t know if it should feel aroused or frightened. It settles on somewhere in between, his hole halfheartedly leaking slick even as he flinches away from the touch.

 

Louis pulls the rag away but keeps his body closer and closer still, leaning forward and letting his lips brush to Harry’s back. He’s whispering something that Harry isn’t meant to hear, just words for Harry’s body like he’s talking to Harry’s shoulderblades or something. The omega catches a few phrases here and there, like _so strong_ and _so brave_.

 

In a moment he has Harry sit back down into the pleasantly warm water again which is still steaming, leaving the scent of vanilla-rose lingering in the air and on their skin. The omega obliges, easily sitting down again and getting comfortable. He closes his eyes when he feels Louis’ hands on his neck, washing away at the bondmark.

 

“So he bit you again.”

 

Harry nods slowly even though Louis can obviously see the answer is yes. There’s this truth hiding away in his heart and he wants to keep it hidden there but he knows he should probably tell Louis. Still, it’s very difficult for him to say the words out loud, to own them like there are his, to confidently say that this is how he feels.

 

“I’m… I’m afraid. I- He. He did it again, and I just feel like I’m back at the start again. Now it’s going to take forever to heal and I don’t know if I’ll be able to survive the- the _pain_ , this time around. It just, it hurt so much, and it was so awful, and I hate that it hurts so much to be separated from him, because I never want to be near him again. And I… I know it’s sick but I want him to be dead. The only reason that can’t happen is that it would kill me too, but I. I don’t know…”

 

He whispers the last part like a secret and in a way it kind of is. If anyone other than Louis ever knew Harry wished his alpha dead, they would think him insane. Because it really is insane to want your bondmate to be dead. But Harry does. And it’s the truth.

 

Louis keeps washing Harry’s neck, wiping at the ugly mark with the washcloth. He doesn’t pretend his gentle strokes will make the bondmark disappear—Harry can feel this in the way he touches it, not like he’s trying to will it away, but like he has already accepted it, and he is just trying to clean it. Just trying to get the scent of Harry’s alpha away. This, at least, is doable. The only thing to make the mark really go away is time and distance. Both are painful.

 

“It’s alright that you’re afraid, baby. It’s okay.” He stares at Harry very deeply and intensely like he’s willing him to understand. “I know it feels like you’re just back to the start again, like he just erased all the work we did this past month. But that isn’t true. Nothing can erase the progress you made, because it has made you _stronger_. It’ll be easier to do it this time because you’ve already been through the worst of it. And of you know of course you’ll have me. Every single day I will be by your side, as long as you want me. You’re not alone in this, Harry.”

 

Yesterday Harry would’ve begged to differ. He felt so frightened and afraid and _alone_. And he truly was alone, on his own, until he met the kind omega in the bathroom who turned into an ally and even a savior. And then he was brought back to Louis.

 

So yesterday Harry was alone but he knows he isn’t now. No, not now, when there’s a very kind alpha leaning against the edge of the tub and washing Harry’s bruised skin with a washcloth like he’s erasing all the fingerprints of every wrong touch the monster ever made.

 

He can’t erase the bruises, the scratches, the welts, or the teeth marks. He can’t erase the black and blue and red and purple. The physical damage is there and his body will heal eventually but not under Louis’ touch, not under command. No. But he can erase the fingerprints. He can soften the memories until Harry doesn’t shake to think of them anymore. He can leave his own gentle touches to Harry’s skin and wipe away all the evil, all the cruelty.

 

It will take time, as most things do. Of course it will. But for now Harry has Louis and Louis has Harry. He can’t complain about that. Not at all. Not when all he has wanted the past few days is to just be close to him.

 

Close to him, like this. The powerful intimacy of one washing another’s skin to clean away the bad memories. It’s therapeutic. It’s cathartic.

 

Harry is trembling again but this time it isn’t with fear. He is trembling because he is feeling the weight of all this kindness encompassing him, making him feel safe.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things:
> 
> 1.) The epigraph is from one of my favorite poets, Emery Allen, and she lives in Cleveland which is a neat coincidence. Some very tiny parts of this story are similar to her life.
> 
> 2.) Hopefully you enjoyed this. All good things from here on out.
> 
> 3.) I am blown away by how interactive you are as readers, and how many people leave these wonderful lengthy comments on every single chapter that I get so excited to read. It means so so so much to me. Every notification makes me smile, even if you're screaming at me for chapter 15 hahaha.
> 
> 4.) Come talk to me on [Tumblr](http://angelichl.tumblr.com/) so we can be friends :)
> 
> 5.) [Reblog the fic post to make my day.](http://angelichl.tumblr.com/post/168648843544/somewhere-far-away-from-here-by-angelichl-harry-is)
> 
> 6.) Thank you again for all the support! <3


	18. Chapter 18

 

 

 

 

They shall have stars at elbow and foot;  
Though they go mad they shall be sane,  
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;  
Though lovers be lost love shall not;  
And death shall have no dominion.

_ —Dylan Thomas, Collected Poems _

 

 

 

 

After the bath, Louis helps Harry out with a guiding hand and then engulfs him in a fluffy white towel.

 

Harry remains still and complacent as Louis dries him off very gently, wiping away all the glistening water droplets that shine like diamonds until his skin is pink and new. They don’t mention any of the ghastly marks and bruises covering the omega’s skin, but when Louis’ fingers graze softly over the sore areas Harry can feel his skin burning beneath the careful touch. He knows Louis feels it too. It’s such a contrast to be touched softly again after the preceding abuse. It makes him ache in the best way.

 

It’s funny, how quiet they are now, when just a few days ago they had been so easily talking and laughing about anything and everything, sometimes so much that the others would grumpily yell at them to shut up and close their mouths for just one second. Now, the silence is a stark contrast, but it isn’t caused by the fact that they don’t know what to say or how to say it. They _do_ know what to say, but in some situations actions can be utilized in place of words.

 

Like now, when Louis takes Harry’s hand in his and leads him down the path of rose petals on the floor, back to the bedroom. When they get there Harry is shivering in the cold air of the hotel room so he drops the towel without a second thought and immediately slides into bed, pulling the silk sheets and plum duvet around him until he’s swathed in comfort and warmth. Louis strips out of his joggers until he’s just in his pants and fuzzy socks before he gets between the lavender sheets too. It’s still so early in the afternoon but the omega feels so exhausted from everything that just happened, he could probably fall asleep right now and not wake up until the next morning.

 

Flipping over onto his side, he shifts so he’s in a comfortable position to be face to face with Louis. Louis does the same, and reaches forward to hold Harry’s hand again. Neither one of them comments on the fact that Harry is glaringly naked. Given the fact that their alpha-omega biology is completely compatible, it probably isn’t the best idea if they want to have a long and serious conversation about quite important topics that desperately need to be discussed. But Harry feels so comfortable right now, safe and trusting in Louis, that he can’t bring himself to regret it.

 

“Tell me what happened,” Louis whispers, squeezing his hand.

 

So he does.

 

He starts with his mum taking him away, and how angry he is at her for doing that. She was completely in the wrong to order him around, yelling at him to be quiet and thus taking away his voice so he never even had a chance to explain. He attempts to justify her actions slightly, saying she’s just worried about Harry and wants to protect him. She thinks Harry can’t take care of himself on his own, which might very well be true, because the real result of his autonomy was being kidnapped in the parking garage. She thought that if she could control Harry she could keep him safe. Of course she was weary of Louis, of course she thought he was taking advantage of her son, of course she rushed down to save Harry herself.

 

And of course it didn’t work, because when you take away a person’s own free will, stripping them of their voice—and thus ridding them of their ability to protest—you are rendering them helpless and completely at the consequence of your hand. The minute she stepped in and didn’t give Harry chance to speak was the minute everything went to hell.

 

“When she started yelling, I shouldn’t have yelled back,” Louis admits, on the topic of Harry’s mum traveling all the way to Michigan that one morning just to bring him home. “I was upset because the things she called me weren’t true, but like, if I had been calmer maybe none of this would’ve happened. It would’ve worked out, we would’ve explained everything to her and it would’ve been fine.”

 

“It isn’t your fault, though,” Harry tells him, very adamant about this. It’s important for Louis to know that all he’s ever done is help. “She would’ve forced me to go back with her anyways. I know it.”

 

“Yeah, maybe,” He sighs.

 

Harry starts laughing a little. A thought just came into his head and it’s kind of funny.

 

“What? Why are you laughing?” Louis’ lips are quirking up into a fond smile at the sight of Harry’s random amusement.

 

Harry waves his free hand through the air, still laughing a little. “It’s nothing, just. Of all the years I imagined two alphas fighting over me, never did I think one of them would be my own mum.”

 

“You’ve imagined alphas fighting over you before?”

 

This of course makes Harry blush, especially when he’s now thinking of that fairytale life he once thought was possible, before the bad thing happened. “Isn’t that what we’re told to want? Like in movies when two alphas are courting an O and they go feral when they come across each other? The real life version is not very pleasant.”

 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

 

“How’s your face, by the way?” Harry reaches out to stroke Louis’ jaw bone, his fingers soft and light, hopefully something that Louis finds calming and comforting. He remembers the sickening crack of his mum hitting him in the face in rage. “I was so worried about you.”

 

“Hurt like a bitch at first but I’m fine now, you know how fast alpha bones mend.”

 

“Oh, right.” He had forgotten about that. “That isn’t fair, omegas take forever to fully heal,” He whines, gesturing to his bare torso which is covered in hideous bruises and scratches. A dark reminder.

 

His whining makes Louis smile softly at him, squeezing his hand. “But there are good things about being an omega, too.”

 

“Really? ‘Cause I’m struggling to come up with them.”

 

“Stop hating on your gender, Harry. I can come up with a million good things about you.”

 

“You can’t,” He argues.

 

Louis raises his eyebrows at him, propping himself up on his elbow and resting his head on his palm. “Do you want me to start listing things? Because I can. I love how soft and warm you are, all the time-“

 

“I’m always freezing, though-“

 

“No, not when we cuddle you’re not cold, omega. You’re always pleasantly warm and I love being close to you. You always smell so good like flowers—like _roses_ —and of course all O’s smell good to me but you smell the best. You’re so kind and caring and probably a little bit possessive, but I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t attractive. I love how much you care for your family even if they maybe don’t deserve it. But one of my favorite things about you is how strong you are. How brave you are, too. For everything you’ve been through and how well you handle it. I really admire that in you, Harry.”

 

So, yeah. Harry is staring at Louis with wide eyes in shock and possible disbelief. A blush is forming on his cheeks like earlier but this time he doesn’t cover it with his hands. His bottom lip quivers and he considers maybe crying again, but instead decides to scoot forward as far as he can and smother Louis in a tight hug. He clings on like a koala, one leg thrown over the alpha’s waist, and holds on for dear life.

 

Louis lets him do it, just stroking his back and rubbing teasing circles on his skin, laughing lightly in amusement at Harry’s emotional antics. Harry keeps his nose buried in Louis’ neck to inhale nothing but the pine needle scent which calms him so much, making his heart thud at a comfortable and steady rhythm which matches the alpha’s perfectly.

 

“So how did he find you?” Louis asks quietly, probably assuming now is a good time to ask since this is most likely the safest Harry will feel in a while, encompassed by everything Louis.

 

“He… He came to mum’s house,” Harry begins again, voice shaky as always, hushed and quiet, whispered to Louis’ neck like a secret. He explains how his alpha must have somehow found his mum and moved to the UK shortly after Harry was rescued. He recounts the morning when his mum ordered him to open the door, and when he did he felt as though the world was ending.

 

He describes the fear he felt when he was being dragged down the street and into another unfamiliar car that made him shivery with dread. He describes the way his alpha threw him against the wall the minute the door to the hotel room was closed and he finally had him alone to do as he pleased.

 

His voice shakes as he retells the story of everything that was done to him. Louis asks him very gently to not edit out the gruesome details; he wants to hear them all. Harry tries his best to get through it, voice shaking, tears spilling down his cheeks and leaving those salty contrails that glisten in the natural lighting from the large windows with the view of the city. He’s shaking so much, voice breaking, that he has to stop a few times to recollect himself, but Louis holds him through it. Using one hand to stroke the bumps of his spine and the other to card his fingers through Harry’s hair, he calms him, even without scenting him.

 

Harry feels safe to admit these things in Louis’ arms. Most of the time he feels like if he says any of it out loud, the horror will come back and he’ll be trapped again. But he feels safe now, just like this, protected by the alpha he had desperately wanted to be near for days.

 

From the few days of separation he has realized that in some capacity he wants Louis. He doesn’t know exactly how he wants him, yet, and if this means what he thinks it does, but he’s hoping they can figure it out together. He’s hoping Louis wants him too. Even though Louis has told him before that he does actually want Harry, the omega still doesn’t believe him, because he doesn’t _understand_. It’s stupid but he just can’t comprehend why any alpha would want an already bonded omega who has been so defiled.

 

When he tells Louis of the omega in the bathroom who helped him, he really starts crying, because again he is overwhelmed by the feeling of being cared for, even by a stranger. His hands shake every time he lifts them from Louis’ skin so he chooses instead to lock his arms around the alpha’s back, pressing himself close to his warm body.

 

“I can’t believe that happened,” Louis whispers into his skin, partly kissing his shoulder and partly not. “Any of it. It’s just insane. So many things went wrong.”

 

“I know.”

 

The truth is Harry can’t believe it either. _Any of it_ , as Louis had said, all the way back to that night when he was leaving the art museum to spend the next few days at home, alone, taking care of his heat. It had been so expected, such a surprise, and a horrible one at that. That day alone changed his life forever, and in turn it changed him as well. Every day since then Harry has felt himself being molded by the circumstances, transforming from some naïve but bright-eyed omega, to one ransacked with fear and trauma. And now this. He is in the arms of the person who rescued him and he feels stupid because of course he would fall for the person who makes him feel safe. That just makes sense. And of course it’s Louis who works for the AORS and rescues omegas all the time. Omegas that probably fall in love with Louis too.

 

He just feels silly and embarrassed clinging to the one and only alpha who has ever been kind to him. But Louis doesn’t seem to mind, for now at least, so Harry really can’t bring himself to stop doing it. All his life he’s been refusing this innate need to feel safe and protected, but now he’s too exhausted to resist any longer. He thinks he deserves to give into the need, and to enjoy the feeling of safety now that he finally has it.

 

Louis asks about Harry’s mum, now, and Harry has to tell him he hasn’t called her and she’s probably freaking out right now. He feels guilty about it but he’s still so pissed at her he doesn’t know what to do. Louis suggests calling Gemma instead and Harry agrees, promising to do that later. For now he just wants to sleep.

 

“You can nap in a second but you have to eat something first, omega. You’ve gotta be starving.”

 

He doesn’t feel hungry at all but he hasn’t eaten anything since he was at his mum’s house, and even then he never had time to eat the cereal he poured before his alpha showed up at the door. “Do you think there’s food in the fridge?”

 

“Dunno, maybe. We can always call room service.”

 

“Let me check the fridge first.”

 

Only after he gets out of his bed does he realize he’s naked, and when his hands fly to his bum to cover it he hears Louis giggling behind him so he runs shrieking out of the room. Obviously it’s no big deal, seeing as he’s been naked in front of the alpha a million times and even spent his heat with him, what feels like a million years ago, but for some reason it still makes his cheeks heat with embarrassment.

 

In the safe solitude of the pristine kitchen he opens the fridge and is pleasantly surprised to see it stocked full of food, with a nice note written in cursive saying everything is complimentary. Mostly there are healthy snacks like fruit and vegetable already portioned into serving sizes, easy to grab and go, no prep or cooking necessary. As he’s eyeing the honeycrisp apples and the small containers of already-sliced strawberries he realizes this is a honeymoon suite, and everything in the fridge could be described as an easy after-sex snack. He looks closer at the various fruit, seeing pineapple and honeydew, which are both supposedly the best things an omega can eat directly after heat.

 

This causes him to think of his last heat which wasn’t too long ago but it feels like forever. Most of what he remembers is just the pain from spending his heat away from his true bondmate, but there were also a swirling storm of other emotions he felt during that time but couldn’t explain.

 

He was in pain because the omega part of him missed his alpha and that was that. He was depressed because he had just found out he was infertile and any hopes for a normal life had been smashed to smithereens. He was scared because there was still a bit of murky mistrust between him and Louis.

 

He remembers being so overcome with emotion that it made him cry. He remembers the pleasure mixed in with the fear. He remembers the panic attack he had, and the delusions, and how he thought the only way to please Louis was by fucking himself on him even through his hysterics. He remembers the subsequent days and the pain that followed, the medication no longer numbing him. He remembers Louis fucking him through it anyway, always trying to make him comfortable at the very least, if pleasure wasn’t possible.

 

He stands naked in front of the fridge so long, just staring at the pineapple, that he hears footsteps behind him and sees Louis. He’s still thinking of his heat and how much it sucked, but how kind Louis was through it all, and it makes his heart ache, and he sees now that Louis is so special and someone Harry really, really doesn’t want to lose.

 

“Are you okay Harry?” His voice is calm but partly worried, the undertones of concern ringing through, yet muffled by his normal confidence.

 

Harry removes his hand from the door and it lazily swings closed without the pressure of his arm holding it open. He hadn’t realized it but he must have been standing in front of the open fridge for a very long time, considering the way his entire body is covered in goosebumps from the cold.

 

“Yeah, um, fine… Just thinking, I guess.”

 

“Thinking about what?”

 

He wants to lie. Or at least he wants to evade the truth. That would be so much easier. But they’ll never move forward if Harry doesn’t speak his mind, so he has to say it. “Ummm, the food, like, reminded me. Of my heat. With you. And I was just. I mean, we- Well, I don’t really know what I’m saying, but I think we need to talk. About, um. About us,” He gestures vaguely between them to finish off this mess of a statement, quickly shifting his eyes to the ground so he doesn’t see Louis’ confusion or pity or whatever emotion may be flashing on his face right now.

 

“Harry… Omega…” Louis sighs and waits until Harry looks at him again. There’s a tired smile on his face, and he smacks his hand against his cheek to cover the grin as it widens. He laughs breathlessly, looking either amused or endeared. Harry isn’t sure, and it might be some of both. “I was gonna bring that up later. Just. I need you to eat first. I mean, I was trying to avoid talking about _us_ when you’re standing in front of the fridge naked, so.”

 

He turns around and presumably heads back to the bedroom, giving Harry the space to breathe once again. Harry is internally groaning at the awkwardness and the embarrassment he feels. Still, he follows orders and gets something to eat, making a bowl of fruit and pouring a glass of chocolate milk. After a deep breath he brings his food back to the bedroom.

 

Louis is lying on his back, above the duvet, head tilted towards the ceiling but eyes closed. He shifts position a bit but doesn’t open them when Harry sets the glass down on the nightstand and crawls into bed beside him, wrapping up in the sheets, bowl of fruit in his hands. He picks at the honeydew and eats a few small slices of strawberries, really not hungry at all. Louis finally cracks one eye open and watches while he chews to make sure he’s actually eating.

 

Halfway through he sets the bowl down on the nightstand too and crawls beneath the covers, burying his face in silk and groaning quietly. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous but it may have to do with the fact that he’s about to spill his feelings and this is something he has never done before.

 

Louis is patient though and waits until Harry is ready. Eventually he pulls the sheets away from his face and sits up, feeling quiet and shy and a bit ashamed.

 

“Can I… Can I ask you something?”

 

The alpha just smiles softly like he already knows what Harry is going to say and nods gently. “Of course, Harry. Always.”

 

“I’ve um. I’ve been wondering, like, where we go from here? I guess, like, what your plans are now. For the future.”

 

Louis is beaming at him now, sitting up and leaning back on his hands to get a better look at him. “Well, actually, now that you bring it up, I don’t think I mentioned that I’ve actually got the entire summer off and I won’t have another assignment until October. So.” He quirks a brow, laughing at Harry’s bewildered expression.

 

“What? Really?”

 

“Mhm. So essentially my plans are up in the air.”

 

“Oh- um. That’s- That’s-“ He flushes, flustered, and just can’t get out what he needs to ask.

 

“That’s what, Harry? What are your plans?”

 

Okay, Louis is definitely teasing him now. Harry squirms under the attention, hiding his face in the sheets again.

 

“I um. I, well. I was wondering if you, um. If you um wanted to um, wanted to staywithme?” He rushes out the last part, feeling stupid. “I mean, I know I don’t really have anywhere, or anything, and I’m kind of just on my own, but like, I just want- I want us to be together, I want to be with you.”

 

Louis flicks his fringe out of his face and then covers his mouth with his hand, hiding his laugh. “Oh god, Harry, of course. I thought we already talked about this earlier? When I asked to court you? And I was just teasing you. I have the entire summer off and I was hoping we could spend it together. Like we were, but better, because now you’ve finally sort of said how you feel about me out loud. It’s mutual, by the way. Although I already told you that so I don’t know why you’re so nervous.”

 

“But- I just- Aggghhhhh. Do you really like me?”

 

He’s still laughing, not in a mocking way, but like he thinks Harry’s anxiety is endearing if not a bit ridiculous. “Yes, Harry, I do. Why do you doubt me?”

 

“Because I’m so ugly! Because I can’t have babies! Because I’m fucking bonded to another alpha already! And if I manage to stay away from him I’m going to be in so much pain for the next few months and I don’t understand why any alpha would want to be with an omega like me!”

 

“Harry, oh my god. Okay. Don’t worry about that right now. In a second I will tell you how much I like you and how much those things don’t matter. But first I have to ask you, do you know anything about re-bonding?”

 

“Not… really. Like, I’ve heard the term before but that’s it.”

 

“Well, okay. It’s usually what happens when an O’s mate passes away.” When an omega’s mate passes a way, the omega typically has a one in ten chance of surviving the first week after the loss. The pain of losing a mate is excruciating for any gender but especially for O’s. Louis continues on, “To avoid the risk of, um, dying from the pain I guess, omegas often re-bond. It’s when they find a new mate and that new person bites them over their original bondmark, creating a new bond. I’ve been told it’s painless and easy to do and doesn’t have many bad aftereffects or anything. So that’s like, that’s an option.”

 

“You mean, instead of waiting for this mark to fade and going through the recovery process and stuff, I can just bond again? And everything will be fixed?”

 

“Well, for a few days your omega might be a bit confused, but after that, yeah, it’s just like bonding like normal. And the pain goes away almost immediately.”

 

“Would it still work even though my A is still alive?”

 

“That’s what I’ve been told.”

 

“That’s-“ He doesn’t know what that is. He doesn’t know what to call it. Of course he isn’t blind to what Louis is insinuating, he knows this means the alpha is suggesting they bond, and like, soon. And that makes Harry’s heart flip in his chest and his omega is cheering happily even though some part of him feels like he’s cheating on his real alpha, but he is so horrified and disgusted by him for once he thinks it’s justified. “Okay, that’s. That’s, I don’t know how to say it. I like you. I want to bond with you.” It feels good to get the words out.

 

Louis pulls him close just to kiss him on the cheek, squeezing Harry in a hug afterwards. “I like you too, and I want that too. There’s no rush, and whenever you’re ready I’m ready. As long as you’re sure about it. I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything, but please know that I would be really happy to spend the rest of my life with you.”

 

As Louis says the last part, the momentousness of the situation sinks in and Harry thinks, _holy shit_. Because bonding is irreversible and really meant as a life-long thing. Obviously the situation is different with Harry’s original alpha, when Harry didn’t have a choice of whether to be bonded or not.

 

But now he has the choice. Louis is giving him the choice. Louis is telling Harry he wants him and giving him the choice. The ball is in his court and he has the power to decide his own future. It’s a relief. Oh god, it’s a relief.

 

“I- I don’t know what I want right now, but I think I want you. I know that isn’t, like, the most romantic thing, but. It’s just, I want you, and I’m so confused right now, and that’s kind of one of the only things that makes sense. I- I think want to give you my forever.”

 

“If you want to give that to me, baby, I will gladly have it. If you decide that’s what you want, just know it’s what I want too. Remember a while ago when I said I would be whatever you needed me to be? I still mean it, Harry. I will be whatever you want me to be. Part of your family or just a friend, whatever it is. I will be here for you, no matter what, in whatever capacity you need me, okay?”

 

“Okay. Thank you. Lou, like, I don’t know if you understand, because this is so confusing for me, but it means so much that you’re here for me. Even my family has messed up but you just always seem to know what I need, and you’ve been so lovely and helpful and it means so much to me. You’re always so patient and you just seem to get me.”

 

“You don’t have to thank me for being there for you, Harry. Like, someone should be by your side and I’m kind of appalled that no one else is. But as long as you want me you’ll have me.” They’re sitting criss-cross-applesauce across from each other right now and Harry is still naked and Louis is still barely dressed but they’re staring into each other’s eyes and everything feels calm. “And by the way, I feel the same. I feel like you just get me. Like we’re on the same wavelength or something. It’s a nice surprise.”

 

Harry smiles and it feels genuine even on his own mouth. “I’m kind of excited, now.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah. Before, um, before the bad thing happened I had very stereotypical omega dreams of like, bonding someone someday. And this kind of feels like that, even if it’s a bit unconventional.”

 

“Mmm, like what dreams, omega?”

 

He blushes, thinking of those naïve childish wishes, stupidly romantic and sometimes even slightly oppressive. “Yeah, like some big alpha coming to sweep me off my feet. Riding off into the sunset and all that. Kind of feels like this. Except you’re a bit smaller than I imagined.”

 

“Oi, okay, rude. I’ve already told you I like that you’re bigger than me. More omega to love.”

 

Then Louis slaps his hand over his mouth like he can’t believe he just said that. For a second Harry wonders why he’s reacting like that but then he notices the L-word and feels as if it’s echoing in the room. The alpha’s eyes are then crinkling with laughter, the sound of it like bells pealing and chiming.

 

“Harryyyyyy,” He whines, still laughing. “Please don’t be scared that I just said that.”

 

“I’m not, I’m not, I promise.”

 

“Okay, good. About the courting thing, you still want that to happen, right?”

 

“Yes, yes, please. I’ve never done it before so I don’t really know…”

 

“I think you’ll like it a lot. I’m looking forward to spoiling you.”

 

“Mmm, that sounds nice. Now can we go to sleep? I’m so exhausted and it’s starting to hurt a bit.”

 

“Of course. You barely ate anything though, omega,” Louis warns, tweaking his nose. “I need to make sure you eat enough.”

 

“I’ll eat later. Just, let’s just take a nap right now okay? Will you cuddle me?”

 

Louis scoffs, rolling his eyes, and holds the blankets up as Harry gets situated. “What kind of question is that?”

 

He’s laying on his tummy now, arms folded in front of him and head rested on them. The warmth and comfort he feels right now is unbounded, and it is all due to the alpha laying beside him. “I don’t know. I’m scared you’re just doing this because you feel sorry for me.”

 

Louis sighs and scooches closer to Harry, laying partially over his back so he’s half on top of the omega, leaving a warm pressure on him. Harry feels safe like this, pressed between the pillowtop mattress and the heavy plum duvet.

 

“I care about you a lot, Harry, and I would care about you even if none of this ever happened. Even if I just met this cute lanky art student omega on the street in Cleveland. I like you in any situation and I will always want to cuddle you. Understood?”

 

There’s a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach as he imagines an alternate universe where the bad thing never happened and Harry met Louis on the street instead, and they fell in love the right way, through shy first meetings followed by conventional and cute courting and finally Louis on one knee asking to bond Harry. It makes him smile, so he presses his face into the pillow, and relishes in the feeling of Louis’ warm alpha body on top of his own.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good,”

 

“Where are we going from here?”

 

“We’re gonna enjoy the fuck out of this big ass bed and this entire honeymoon suite, and then we’re gonna go back to Lake Michigan if that’s what you want. There’s still so much I want to show you there, and you promised me a ton of dates, so.”

 

“And from there? Where do we go from there?”

 

“Well, maybe we bond if you decide to do that. And then we’ll act like sappy newly bonded mates for a while and everyone will be disgusted by how much we love each other. We can spend the summer in Michigan with the sun and the sand and the lake. Where I can keep you safe.”

 

“And then what? Later? Because I can’t have kids, and I know you’ll want kids, so like-“

 

“When we decide that we want that, we’ll adopt. As many as either of us wants. We can have all the kids in the world and I know we’ll be the best parents to them. After we get a house, of course. One that’s our own, wherever you want. And we’ll live happily ever after with our big house and our big family and our love that still makes everyone else sick.”

 

“Mmm, okay.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

He’s asleep within seconds.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does this count as angst? I really don't know. I keep trying to make it fluffy but for now we'll just have to settle with Harry being more confident with what he wants.
> 
> Today is my last day of break but I might just ignore my other obligations to keep writing haha.
> 
> [Come talk to me](http://angelichl.tumblr.com/) so we can be friends and [reblog the fic post on Tumblr to support this story.](http://angelichl.tumblr.com/post/168648843544/somewhere-far-away-from-here-by-angelichl-harry-is)
> 
> PS Your comments give me life <3 Also maybe share some cute alpha/omega date ideas I can write in when L starts courting H <3


	19. Chapter 19

 

 

 

__ You’ll heal. You’ll be okay. You’ll let go.  
  


 

 

 

They spend the rest of the day sleeping.

 

It’s calm, peaceful, and quite. Harry wakes up a few times, fearful, thinking he’s still with his alpha. He shakes and cries but Louis just holds him tight and rubs his back, gently bringing him back to reality. Harry imagines it’s hard for Louis to watch, but he doesn’t comment on it, just keeps holding Harry and telling him everything is okay, he’s safe, _he’s safe_.

 

The omega whimpers quietly but tries his best to calm down, pressing his face into Louis’ neck and getting lost in his scent. Louis offers to scent Harry to get him to relax, but he declines, saying he’s fine and trying to prove it by stifling his tears. He still cries anyways, quietly so, but the alpha doesn’t mention it.

 

The thing is, Harry feels completely safe in Louis’ arms. He has no reason to cry, except for the weight of all this sadness now. But he isn’t fearful, just melancholic.

 

When evening comes, they’re both feeling awake from napping all day, so they explore the hotel room. The fridge is fully-stocked, the TV has a million channels, and the bathroom is full of soaps and body-washes. They make use of all three, showering again separately, because Harry is so desperate to get the feeling of his alpha off his skin. Afterwards Harry looks through the cupboard below the sink in search of lotion to smooth his skin, and blushes when he finds an exorbitant amount of lube instead.

 

Louis laughs at his reaction, reminding him it _is_ a honeymoon suite. Harry shuts the door quickly and pulls on the robe hanging on a hook on the wall before nearly running out of the bathroom, Louis’ laughter ringing clear.

 

They spend the evening lounging on the comfy L-shaped couch, watching cheesy rom-coms with the typical alpha-omega tropes. The delicate docile omega unable to defend themselves and the big hulking alpha who saves the day. Despite the unoriginality, Harry finds his eyes misty at the fairytale ending, when they bond and the O gets pregnant. He tries very hard to remember that he himself will never be pregnant.

 

Still, it makes him ache. He thinks of how lovely it would be to have a beautiful bump to caress and maybe even sing to. Harry imagines he would glow throughout his pregnancy like many O’s do, so pleased and happy, skin radiant from a strengthened immune system and an influx of hormones. He tries to reconcile this with the existence of morning sickness and other prenatal discomforts, but it doesn’t help at all. Because at the end of the day all he really wants is to curl up in his nest and cuddle his pups in his arms. That’s it, that’s all. Just the safety and protection and the promise of life. Something he will never have.

 

Louis must be able to smell the self-resentment on Harry, because he holds him closer and strokes his back to comfort him like he always does, whispering, _you’re perfect, you’re perfect_ , over and over again in his ear. Harry doesn’t say anything because there are no words for him to say, really, but he remains curled up by Louis’ side and basking in his attention, trying to quell that awful ache in his heart. Having an alpha beside him, with his arms around him, fingertips trailing over his skin, warm voice in his ear, helps at least a little bit. But it won’t fix everything.

 

Harry feels safe, though. Safe and warm and comfortable. It’s a stark contrast from the past few days and it makes this warmth in his heart glow even through the emptiness and the ache. Louis is always so caring and attentive and never once has he hurt Harry. Never once has he threatened him or made him feel in danger. Never once has he even taken Harry’s power away or made him feel subservient.

 

If there’s such thing as a good alpha in the world, it’s Louis. He’s affectionate, lovely, and helpful. As the eldest of six siblings, he is protective, caring, and maternal. All his life he’s been taking care of people, even now. Even when he could choose any job in the world and he chose to join the AORS, to rescue people in need. People like Harry.

 

Harry can only guess that Louis is so attuned to omega feelings because his mum was an omega. Louis hasn’t spoken about her very much, and Harry hasn’t pried. He remembers the first night they shared Louis’ bedroom, when Harry was still shivering from swimming in the lake hours earlier, and they had sat on the edge of the bed staring at the fire in the fireplace when Louis had quietly brought her up.

 

Offhandedly he had mentioned that his mum was a nesting omega just like Harry. Back then, before Harry really knew Louis, he had been surprised to hear Louis, an alpha, speak so fondly about omegas. All he had known his entire life were alphas who thought they were undoubtedly superior to omegas. But Louis was speaking with such fondness, such _love_ , when he spoke of his mum.

 

Staring resolutely at the fire, his scent smelling strangely nostalgic, he had very quietly given Harry a piece of him, in a way. Saying, _I loved her with my life. With everything._

 

Harry feels close enough to Louis know, that inquiring doesn’t seem like it’s crossing any boundaries. They’ve already sort of spilled their hearts to each other and agreed to spend forever together. Divulging some of their inner thoughts and feelings might do them some good.

 

So when the credits roll, Harry shifts to lie down and rest his head on Louis’ lap. The alpha’s fingers immediately find their way to his hair which he soothingly strokes and cards his fingers through Harry’s locks. It’s a wonderful sensation and the omega gets lost in the gentle touch for a long moment before he remembers his purpose.

 

“Tell me about your mum,” He whispers, voice soft and calm.

 

Louis’ hand stills but other than that he remains completely at ease, not tense at all. Probably caught by surprise, if anything.

 

“What do you want to know?”

 

“Anything. Why you loved her so much.”

 

Louis resumes playing with Harry’s hair, but much more absentmindedly now. It feels so good that Harry closes his eyes, just enjoying the feeling and listening to the soundtrack of the movie play, and he awaits the alpha’s response.

 

“We had a… unique relationship, I guess. It was lovely, we were more like friends than anything and I feel so lucky to have had that with her. She had me when she was pretty young, so that’s probably why we were so close. I always felt like I could tell her anything.”

 

In comparison to Harry’s own relationship with his mum, this is a stark contrast. Especially now, when things are so strained, and Harry is seriously considering never seeing her again. Of course, with his mum as an overbearing alpha who mated a beta, and Harry as the only omega of the family, there never really was much of a chance of mutual understanding.

 

“She didn’t plan to have me. I wasn’t exactly an accident- More like, I was forced upon her by some knothead she barely even knew. She always told me it was her fault for consenting to it but I don’t really believe her, it was more like dubious consent if anything. And the whole omega desire to please. The A left as soon as he found out she was pregnant—didn’t want kids or whatever. She wasn’t exactly at the right place to have kids either, but never once did she ever make me feel like I was a mistake or like she didn’t want me. There’s a special kind of love between an O and her pups and that’s what she had for me.”

 

Harry’s eyes fill with tears but he stares decidedly at the long list of credits and tries not to cry. He feels this sort of awful omega solidarity, just like with the O who helped him escape, and it makes him feel so overwhelmed. Terrible things happen to omegas every day and it’s so common, it’s an experience all O’s share.

 

“Is that why you joined the AORS?”

 

“I mean, it’s not the whole reason but it might be what started it. Just knowing that awful shit like that happens every single day, a hundred times over, and a lot of times no one even does anything about it, is pretty much why I decided to join. It sucks because typically the only people to care about those things are omegas, but you guys really don’t have that much power so there isn’t much you can do about it. And then the people who _do_ have power are alphas but they just ignore it. I don’t want to just ignore it.”

 

“Thank you,” Harry breathes, curling in on himself. “Thank you for standing up for us.”

 

Louis rubs his back, smoothing out the tension in his muscles, his touch so careful and warm. “Of course, baby.”

 

“What happened to your mum?”

 

“Cancer. It was unexpected when we first found out, and the stage was too late. Her health declined so quickly. She had just re-bonded too, had my two youngest siblings.”

 

“Where’s your family now, then?”

 

“Doncaster. Sometimes they a week or two during the summer in Michigan if I don’t have any assignments.”

 

Harry sits up quickly. “So they’re coming this summer, then?”

 

“Well I haven’t really had much time to think about it. I just got you back, you know. I probably wouldn’t have asked you until I made sure you were okay.”

 

“I am okay,” Harry argues, even as his heart is aching, his bondmark burning. He probably isn’t okay, but he wants to be. For Louis.

 

Louis smiles lazily. “I don’t know, H. It’s been like, half a day.”

 

“It’s okay, there’s no rush. We’ll just enjoy the night here and then travel back Up North tomorrow. Are you in pain right now?”

 

“A little,” Harry admits. “But it’s been hurting for so long that I don’t even know anymore.”

 

Louis pulls him into a tight, warm hug that somehow dulls the ache. “You’re so strong, omega. I’m so proud of you.”

 

“I feel so weak…”

 

“But you’re not, Harry. You’re really not. You’ve been through so much and yet you’re still here, still trying to convince me you’re okay. It’s okay to not be okay. It’s going to take time and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

 

“You make it so much easier, though… You make me feel like I’m okay.” Harry pulls himself closer, so the space between them is nonexistent, and buries his face in Louis’ neck. It’s so comforting, as he breathes in and the scent of alpha becomes omnipresent, like he’s encompassed by this heavy warmth that calms him infinitely. It’s impossible not to feel safe, protected, and cared for when his nose is in the crook of Louis’ neck and Louis is holding him tightly.

 

“I need you so much,” Harry sighs, for the first time feeling comfortable enough to spill what’s been nagging him in the darkest part of his heart. “I need you so much but you don’t need me at all.”

 

Louis’ grip immediately tightens on Harry’s hips as he clutches the soft material of his t-shirt between his fingers. “What do you mean?”

 

Harry keeps his face pressed to the alpha’s sweet-smelling neck so he doesn’t have to face him. There’s something heavy in his heart and it feels like shame. “I need you for everything. You’re always caring for me and I do nothing in return. I need you so much but I know you don’t need me. I don’t understand why you’re still here, and I… I still feel like I’m just any omega you rescue. You never talk about any of your other assignments but I know. I know it’s true.”

 

“Harry, I- I didn’t know you felt this way…”

 

“I’m sorry for not telling you,” He sniffs. “I just thought you knew.”

 

“I didn’t,” Louis replies, peeling Harry away from him to look into his eyes. Harry knows what he’ll find: eyes red-rimmed and teary, tired, and exhausted. “I didn’t know, but I’m so sorry I made you feel that way, because it’s not true.”

 

“But it is! God, I feel so stupid.”

 

“Harry, stop. Listen to me.” It isn’t an order by any means but Harry stops and stills immediately, his inner omega very desperate to please. Louis smoothes his palms up and down Harry’s sides, continuing. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but it’s part of our dynamic, okay? I’m an alpha, I’m supposed to protect you and care for you. I’m supposed to make you feel safe. Now, when you haven’t felt safe in months because of some awful shit that happened to you, and then finally for the first time in your life you have someone who is trying to make sure you’re safe, of course you’re going to be reliant on them.”

 

“But-“

 

“No no no, I’m not finished yet. I care about you, Harry. A lot. You’re so special to me and you don’t even realize it. I never talk about my other assignments because it’s confidential, but I can tell you that the only time an omega stayed with us this long was with Niall. Usually we get the O to safety and reunite them with their family within a day or two.”

 

“Then why did you let me stay? Why didn’t you make me call my family as soon as you rescued me?”

 

“I don’t know if you realize this, H, but your situation is one of the worst we’ve _ever_ seen. And you had been there for so long… I definitely wanted to keep an eye on you to make sure you were okay. Your mum was the one who called us saying you were missing, and she was so adamant about finding you, but also the typical overbearing alpha. So when you didn’t immediately ask to call her I understood why. And the four of us agreed that we would be okay with you staying as long as you needed to, because you had been through so much shit already and we knew no one could keep you safe like we could. A lot of times it’s bad for O’s to assimilate back into society right away, especially in cases like yours with how isolated you were. We wanted you to stay. _I_ wanted you to stay.”

 

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

 

“Let me speak, then. Harry, I know you know how compatible we are. I know you can feel it too. And as long as you want me, that’s not something I’m willing to give up. You act like I’m not dependent on you but I’ve been looking for a mate for years, and nothing has ever felt this right. I want to keep you safe. I want to protect you. I want you to want that too.”

 

“I do,” Harry gasps, feeling breathless. “I do want that. I do.”

 

“Then please stop doubting me. Please trust me. You’re so important to me and it hurts me to think that you don’t know that. Please try to believe me.”

 

“Okay,” He gasps, on the verge of tears but attempting to hold them back because it seems like all he does nowadays is cry. “Okay.”

 

They decide to watch another movie and Harry is glad for the distraction, knowing that’s exactly why Louis suggested they watch another. This time they’re cuddled even closer together, with Harry practically on Louis’ lap and curled up small. A lot of times he has to pretend he’s a small delicate omega but in reality he knows he’s bigger than Louis. Still, it’s less awkward than it should be. Louis just holds him close, arms wrapped around his middle, cheek resting on his shoulder. Harry is asleep halfway through.

 

He wakes up in bed the next morning, Louis curled around him.

 

The arousal is there but he pushes the desire away, carefully wiggling out of Louis’ arms so as not to wake him and heading to the bathroom to take care of himself.

 

He has a lot to think about but all of it is pushed from his mind as he leans against the shower wall, steaming hot water raining down on him, as he gets himself off. After that he kind of sinks down to the floor and comes to the terms with the fact that he really, really likes Louis. And Louis is saying he likes him too.

 

It’s a lot to deal with, considering the situation. Just a few days ago a monster fucking bit him again, re-strengthening the bond. His mum thinks Louis is a rapist and dragged Harry away, unknowingly putting him in harm’s way. And just a few weeks ago Harry found out he’s infertile, which is enough in itself to throw any omega into depression.

 

Yet out of everything he can’t help now but feel relieved. He isn’t on birth control but his alpha knotted him a bunch of times just now, and if he wasn’t infertile he would have a chance of getting pregnant with the monster’s babies. As much as he wants kids, he doesn’t want them with the alpha who turned his life into living hell.

 

When Harry exits the bathroom, wrapped up in a towel, he greets Louis good morning, seeing him lying down in bed scrolling on his phone.

 

“Sleep well?” Louis asks, sitting up.

 

“Yeah, you?”

 

“Me too. Hey, they have complimentary breakfast on the first floor. Wanna go down and eat, then come back up to get our stuff before we check out?”

 

Harry agrees, but realizes he doesn’t have any clean clothes to wear and he’d really prefer not to wear what he had been wearing the past few days. Louis tells him in his rush to get to Harry he didn’t think to bring clothes for him, but he has some spare joggers and a t-shirt that might be a bit small on him.

 

They’ll have to do, though, Harry decides, as he adjusts the joggers which are both too tight and too short. He cuffs the bottoms so it looks intentional, but there isn’t much to do about how tight they are. The t-shirt too. Louis laughs, apologetic, when he sees him, and they head down to the first floor for breakfast.

 

It’s buffet style, so they serve themselves, and sit beside each other in a comfy but fancy-looking booth, so they can easily share their plates of food. It’s nice because for a change everything is already cooked. It’s been a long, long time since Harry has eaten out.

 

Louis talks a lot more about his mum, telling Harry about what he learned from her, especially since she was an omega. Harry enjoys listening because it’s always interesting to hear what alphas have to say about other genders, since their perspective is so unique. Besides, Harry could listen to Louis forever.

 

They’re almost finished with their breakfast, however, when three people approach their table.

 

All three of them are female omegas. Harry bristles when he realizes they’re all delicate-looking too, small and curvy and pretty like omegas should be. Big eyes, small hands, high voices that sound like little bells peeling. They give Harry a once-over and then immediately dismiss him, turning their full attention to Louis instead. The typical shit, all of that. Harry is used to feeling invisible.

 

“Hi,” The prettiest one chirps, her voice as sickly sweet as her scent which is wafting over and clouding Harry’s senses. “Um, we’re in a bit of a situation, and you look really nice, so we were wondering if you could help us?”

 

Louis sets his fork down, straightening up his back. Harry narrows his eyes, suspicious and annoyed, but Louis doesn’t seem to have a problem with them, because he asks, “What’s wrong?”

 

“We have a flat tire, and we have a spare but none of us are strong enough to replace it.”

 

God. Harry has to very deliberately stop himself from rolling his eyes at the antics of these omegas. The pretty one is very close to the line between asking for help and _flirting_ , and it makes Harry simmer with annoyance.

 

But Louis is already standing up from the table, pushing his plate to the side. Harry gapes at him. One of the omegas meets his eye and snickers at his bewildered expression, somehow taking pleasure in the fact that the alpha Harry clearly likes is just brushing him aside.

 

“Is it just outside in the parking lot?”

 

“Yep,” The prettiest omega says, her voice nearly a song. She has her heart eyes on, subtly sniffing the air and obviously liking Louis’ scent. Harry feels the very distinct need to shove her away from Louis, but he doesn’t. He just sets his fork down too and tries to remain composed.

 

“Okay, sure, I’ll help.” He turns to Harry then, making the attention of the other O’s shift to him as well, albeit briefly. Harry doesn’t like the way their eyes scrutinize him, lingering on his ugly bondmark and then his even uglier stature, which is depressingly un-omega-like. “Wanna go up to our room and get our stuff packed so we can check out as soon as I’m finished.”

 

Harry stares at him dully. He can’t believe Louis is just bushing him aside like this, for these three omega strangers, but whatever. It looks like Louis is quite oblivious to the way the O’s are judging Harry ruthlessly, seemingly pleased by the fact that he’s ugly and completely unlike any omega should be, too tall and lanky and gangly.

 

“Sure,” He says slowly, voice emotionless, still not moving.

 

There isn’t time for Louis to read into his expression or even respond, because one of the O’s is already tugging him away. Harry watches as they disappear, and just sits there, still and silent. He can’t help but feel super self-conscious, even though he really doesn’t want to. And he just keeps thinking of that pretty omega with the heart eyes at Louis.

 

He cleans up their table, feeling this gross sensation curling in his stomach, and then heads up to their room. Really, he has no choice. Louis didn’t order him, but what else is he going to do?

 

The only thing to pack up is Louis’ bag. They have no other belongings, so it takes less than three minutes, and then he just sits on the bed and stares out the window. He’s definitely feeling a lot of ugly things right now, like envy, and jealousy, both of which are unreasonable. But it doesn’t matter, envy and jealousy know no reason. He feels them regardless.

 

It’s these two emotions that influence him to slide the strap of Louis’ bag over his shoulder and exit the hotel room, taking the elevator down to the first floor. He checks out at the front desk and then heads outside, hanging near the door and scanning the parking lot.

 

He sees them just across the way. Louis is replacing the tire and the three omegas are behind him, sitting on the curb but chatting animatedly. The prettiest omega stands up to move beside Louis, and Harry watches in horror as she slides her hand across his back. Louis doesn’t react.

 

Tightening his grip on the strap of the bag, Harry walks forward, determined. He isn’t thinking straight and there’s no one there to stop him from approaching them. When he gets there they all ignore him even though he’s standing only a few feet away and they definitely notice him. No one looks at him until he clears his throat obnoxiously.

 

“Oh hey Harry,” Louis greets cheerfully. He’s annoyingly oblivious, especially when he stands up and the omega’s arm reluctantly falls from his back and he doesn’t even notice. Or at least he appears not to notice.

 

“Hey _alpha_ ,” Harry replies, his voice a mix between painfully sweet and threateningly terse. He steps forward to kiss Louis on the cheek like this is something he does all the time, making eye contact with one of the O’s as his lips make contact and glaring at her. Saying _alpha_ like this has tons of implications, all of them meaning _my alpha_. Thus, Harry is very clearly communicating, _mine_.

 

The O’s look a little peeved when Louis says, “I’m almost done, just give me one sec. Then we can leave.”

 

“Sounds good,” Harry says. “I’m excited to go back to _our home_.”

 

Louis finishes up the rest of it in silence as the omegas glare at Harry. Harry folds his arms over his chest and doesn’t back down. Honestly, what do they think, that Louis is going to whisk one of them away and bond them? It’s so stupid.

 

When he’s finished, he stands up, and Harry steps to his side, wrapping his arm around his waist and leaning into him. The omegas thank Louis, but he has very little time to say _you’re welcome_ before Harry is not so subtly saying goodbye and yanking Louis away.

 

Louis doesn’t say anything about it. He just lets Harry drag him away, laughing quietly to himself. So he isn’t completely oblivious to the fact that the pretty omega was coming onto him. Harry bristles but doesn’t say anything either.

 

How do you know when you want to be with someone forever?

 

There’s no easy answer. Harry once heard someone say you should try to imagine your life with the person you’re considering, and if you can’t imagine it then you shouldn’t be together. But Harry can’t even imagine his future in general. He doesn’t know where he’s going from here and nothing is more confusing or disorienting than that.

 

So he thinks that maybe another way to test that question is to imagine the person in question with someone else.

 

The thing is, Louis deserves better than Harry. Absolutely, without a doubt. He deserves a nice, cute, delicate, docile omega who actually looks and acts like one. He deserves someone who is whole and happy and not traumatized like Harry is. He deserves someone who has the capability to give him pups one day. Someone who can build a family with him.

 

The thing is, Louis deserves an omega like the pretty one who was coming onto him. She’s much shorter than him, and just small in general, and very pretty. She may be a bit devious and snarky but she would probably be more subdued and compliant once she was bonded. She would be able to give him millions of happy babies. And they would live in contentment as a beautiful family.

 

Yet, _the thing is_ , when Harry imagines Louis bonding this pretty omega, he feels this ugly sensation in his stomach and he kind of wants to die. It hurts more than anything to imagine him spending his forever with someone else and that’s when Harry knows.

 

Louis isn’t his but he wants him to be. Harry knows this now, with one hundred percent clarity. He’s certain.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

The first thing Harry does when they get back to the beach house is check his nest.

 

He practically runs through the house, ignoring Louis’ confusion, and slides across the wood floor of his bedroom before he makes it to the closet. He flings the door open and is so glad to see it in the exact sate he left it that awful morning when his mum showed up. He inhales deeply, smelling his own scent mixed slightly with Louis’ and exhales happily. Everything is as it should be.

 

Except for the constant aching pain he feels, of course, but whatever. There’s only one thing Harry can do to stop the pain at this point, and he plans on asking Louis tonight.

 

When he leaves his bedroom moments after he’s smothered by hugs and greetings. Liam, Niall, and Zayn all show their enthusiasm for his return and Harry tells them he’s glad to see them too. It isn’t a lie. Louis stands back and watches their reunion with a smile. Harry makes eye contact with him when he’s being smothered in hugs, and they smile softly and comfortably at each other.

 

The five of them catch up over dinner in the dining room, the early evening sunlight streaming in golden through the windows and making everything glow. When they ask for Harry’s recollection of what happened, he gives the gist but doesn’t go into the dirty details, and Louis keeps his hand on his thigh, squeezing in reassurance. Despite the fact that he’s dragging up memories he desperately wants to forget, he feels calm. It’s a nice change.

 

After dinner Louis and Harry offer to do the dishes together since they haven’t in a while, and they sing along to music playing from Louis’ phone as they scrub at dishes and utensils. After they step outside, just the two of them, and head down to the beach to go for a walk.

 

The feeling in Harry’s chest when he sees the lake spread out before him is indescribable. He hadn’t realized how much he missed it here, but he really truly did, and that heavy weight hits him now. He digs his toes into the cools sand and sighs happily, for once feeling at peace. They walk along the shore for a while in silence, neither one of them saying a word. It’s nice to just listen to the waves crashing, to feel the sun-warmed water lapping at their feet, to inhale the lake breeze and the pine trees.

 

They reach the point a mile away from the house, and this is when Harry stops. Seagulls fly away at their disturbance, landing further inland and looking at Louis and Harry like they’re annoyed.

 

“I have to ask you something,” Harry says, stopping abruptly.

 

Louis nods, giving him the space to speak. Silently saying, _I’m listening_.

 

“I kind of, um, came to a realization I guess. And I decided I want this, as long as you’re certain you want it too.” He sucks in a deep breath. Louis is still waiting patiently for Harry to say it even though he can probably already guess what Harry’s getting at. “There’s no reason for me to wait anymore. I want us forever. I want you to bond me soon.”

 

“How soon is soon?”

 

“Like tonight, or tomorrow, or whenever you want to do it. Just. Don’t make me wait too long. I’m fine with skipping courting; we can do it after if we really want to. I want our forever right now.”

 

Louis drops Harry’s hands in favor of caressing his face, gently stroking at his jaw, his cheeks, his lips. “Yeah, you want that?” He asks quietly, is breath dancing over Harry’s skin, just the way the breeze from the lake does. The sun is setting and everything is beautiful, everything is gorgeous. “You want to be mine? You want me to be yours?”

 

Harry feels this very distinct tugging in his heart, the feeling of yearning. He’s been feeling it for a while now but never as intense as this. He knows now, for certain. He knows, he does. “Yes, please Lou.”

 

When Louis presses their lips together gently, Harry can feel his smile.

 

“Okay, whenever you want, omega. _My_ omega.”

 

“My alpha…”

 

God, does it feel good to say that, and really mean it too. Harry’s inner omega is doing happy cheers within him, his heart flipping elatedly in his chest. This, in its simplicity, is what Harry is made for. This and exactly this. Finding an alpha and soul-bonding him. He’s so eager and excited, he can barely wait.

 

He’s still in pain but he won’t be for long. Once the bond sets in he will belong to Louis and only Louis, and for the first time in his life he will feel total peace. Obviously having never experienced a soul bond, he doesn’t completely know what to expect, but he’s heard enough from others, and read about it, to the point where he’s so very excited. Soul-bonding is on the list of most pleasurable things an omega can do in their lifetime, and while Harry has already bonded with an alpha before, that was a different situation because it had been forced and he had been so afraid.

 

So everything is new, and he’s perfectly fine for that. For once the unknown isn’t scary, but welcome. Because he has Louis by his side.

 

He isn’t afraid when he’s with Louis.

 

It’s comforting.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi loves. I'm so sorry for the long wait for this chapter. I had a shit week with no time to write, and then when I did actually write the chapter my laptop kicked it and I lost 400,000 words of different fics I've written. Luckily I had 300,000 words saved elsewhere, but unfortunately I lost Chapter 19 to this fic so I had to rewrite it. Which really fucking sucked. So I'm pretty upset because I lost 100,000 words of writing, which is like, entire fics. But whatever.
> 
> Anyways if you wanna be supportive, [reblog the fic post on Tumblr](http://angelichl.tumblr.com/post/168648843544/somewhere-far-away-from-here-by-angelichl-harry-is) :)
> 
> (Or if you prefer, [reblog the old fic post](http://angelichl.tumblr.com/post/168380671174/somewhere-far-away-from-here-by-angelichl-seven))
> 
> Thanks for sticking around as always <3
> 
> Love you,  
> Adri


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize deeply for the delay. Hopefully this makes up for it.

My bounty is as boundless as the sea,  
My love as deep;  
The more I give to thee,  
The more I have,  
For both are infinite.

—William Shakespeare, _Romeo and Juliet_ , Act II, scene ii.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Despite his eagerness, thrummed by his building arousal and the constant fear that somehow he will become separated from Louis again, Harry decides to visit his doctor one last time before they bond.

 

Neither one of them particularly wants to wait the extra day for Louis to sink his teeth into Harry’s neck, bonding them together finally, but it’s a much needed appointment. A necessary precaution. Before they go any further Harry needs to be absolutely certain that Louis biting over the already-there bondmark will have no lasting side effects. Besides, he also has some questions about his infertility he hadn’t the mind to ask when he was first informed of it.

 

So they call the doctor’s office and manage to weasel in an appointment for Harry early in the morning the following day. That night Harry sleeps alone in his nest because he knows he’ll be too tempted to beg Louis to bond him if they’re alone in the same room. Even in his nest he has this aching in his gut all night—this calling for his alpha. For Louis.

 

It’s funny, because over the past few weeks, Harry has become so dependent on Louis, he can barely sleep without him. If that isn’t an indication that they should be together for real, then Harry doesn’t know what is. He tosses and turns all night, trying to calm himself by pressing one of Louis’ worn jumpers between his thighs, one Harry nicked from the laundry basket when no one was looking. It doesn’t help much—his omega isn’t stupid and does indeed know the difference between a jumper and the real life Louis—but it’s better than nothing.

 

The next morning he wakes up early and stays curled in his nest until it’s time to get Louis up too. There’s not really time to make breakfast so they get in the car and stop for fast food on the way. Harry feels vaguely nervous, but not so much when Louis has his hand on Harry’s thigh, the other loosely clutching the steering wheel. They don’t speak much, singing along to the radio instead. But the little glances Louis gives him when he thinks Harry isn’t looking show how much he knows of Harry’s apprehension.

 

It should be frightening that they understand each other’s emotions so well. It’s something only bonded mates are able to do, really. Harry knows that once they’re bonded, they’ll feel each other’s emotions as if their hearts are connected by golden thread. He’ll be able to feel Louis’ stronger emotions at any given moment, and Louis will feel Harry’s.

 

It’s evolutionary. If your bondmate is ever frightened or injured you’ll know immediately because you’ll feel the exact same thing. But it isn’t just negative emotions that can be felt through the bond—it’s positive emotions too. Like care and affection and _love_.

 

The thought of Louis feeling Harry’s exact emotions for him at any given time makes Harry squirm with embarrassment but also excitement. He imagines curling up in Louis’ arms, feeling so cared for and protected. There’s nothing he wants more than the feeling of absolute safety. Nothing in the world.

 

At the doctor’s office, they wait for a while sitting uncomfortably on cold plastic chairs in the waiting room, before a nurse comes in and finally calls Harry’s name.

 

“Want me to go with you?” Louis asks, letting their hands fall apart so their fingers are no longer entwined. Harry misses the innocent touch, the gentle connection between their bodies, much more intensely than he could’ve ever predicted. Holding Louis’ hand feels grounding in a way, like sometimes it’s his only connection to the earth. The only thing keeping him sane. Like an anchor.

 

Still, he stands up and gives his almost-alpha a reassuring smile. “No, I’ll be okay.”

 

“Okay, I’ll be here,” Louis tells him, returning that same reassuring smile. It calms Harry’s nerves to no end. It should be scary that Louis’ actions, reactions, and emotions, have such an effect on Harry’s own. But it’s not—instead it just feels comfortable and like it should be. Even as he walks back towards the nurse, he can still smell Louis’ scent, because he has been so accustomed and attuned to it. He knows it so well now, and the familiarity is part of what calms him. The rest is just Louis, the knowledge that Louis is waiting for him, and the understanding that Louis will be there for him.

 

Sitting on the examination table, waiting for the doctor to arrive, is nerve-wracking. He can’t smell Louis from so far away, and with the door closed too, but he can imagine his scent which not only gives him something to do but also appeases and soothes him.

 

He thinks of that very first time he smelled Louis’ scent, when he was in his alpha’s apartment on his knees facing the wall. Everything was a confusing mess of unfamiliar scents and foreign sounds, and he had been so frightened by it all.

 

It’s such a far cry from now, when Harry is purposefully seeking out Louis’ scent just to calm himself. He blushes to recall the time after his heat, when he smelled so much like sex and Louis, their scents intermixing to create something they both couldn’t get enough of. Louis’ evergreens mixed with Harry’s flowers. Above all, it made him feel safe.

 

The doctor enters the room and Harry folds his hands on his lap, crossing his ankles. He feels on display with all the attention on him.

 

Dr. Clark begins with the standard physical examination before he turns the floor to Harry so he can ask what he wants to ask. It’s difficult to get the words out, due to the slight but prominent embarrassment he feels, but somehow he manages to ask about bonding and re-bonding.

 

“I don’t know much about it and I want to do it safely,” Harry admits, unable to look anywhere but at his hands in his lap.

 

So Dr. Clark tells him everything he needs to know, and even gives him a few packets of information to read.

 

“You’ll feel discomfort for the first two to three days. If it persists longer any than three, you need to see me immediately.”

 

“And he can just bite me right over this mark?” Harry asks, fingers softly touching the aching scar on his neck. It still hurts like hell from the distance of being separated from his real alpha, but it’s something Harry has been through before, and he has been through much worse, so mainly he just ignores it. He’s sick of his omega body being weak, so he has decided not to pay it any mind.

 

“He can, but I would suggest making a new mark. That way the old one will fade in a few months. Otherwise you’ll be stuck with the reminder forever, and the mark might look different since that spot has been bitten so many times. It’s up to you.”

 

They talk for a while longer about safety precautions and everything. Dr. Clark doesn’t mention the way Harry’s body is covered in fading bruises and mending scratches from his alpha. There’s nothing to do about it except wait for everything to heal anyway.

 

Finally, Harry asks about what has been eating away at him for weeks now: his infertility. Dr. Clark explains everything again, saying Harry is infertile and probably has been all his life—it just took the pain and confusion of the situation to bring it to the forefront.

 

“So it isn’t possible it was just caused by my body reacting to the …abuse?” What he means is, he has this theory that maybe he’s only temporarily infertile, because his body recognized the abusive situation and somehow shut down in order to protect itself from pregnancy.

 

A flicker of undistinguishable emotion passes over Dr. Clark’s face. He looks conflicted, like he doesn’t want to validate Harry’s theory. With reluctance, he very carefully responds, “Based on the test results, I would say that’s very unlikely but still not impossible. Unfortunately there’s no way for us to tell. It’s very rare. I would not count on it.”

 

“So there’s a chance… That somewhere down the road… I could get pregnant...?”

 

Dr. Clark’s jaw clenches, and a conflicted expression passes over his face, like he would rather say anything but yes. He nods anyways, reluctantly. “But it’s such a small chance, Harry. You can’t count on it. I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

 

“Okay,” He says, pretending. But inside his heart is thudding excitedly against his chest at the new recognition that he may not be infertile at all. He has to squeeze his hands together hard in order to bring himself back from all the images and possibilities swirling through his mind, all of which have to do with getting pregnant and having very many kids.

 

Once the appointment is over, Harry walks out of the office feeling lighter than ever. Louis notices, of course, asking what happened, what did he say, but Harry just brushes it off and grabs the alpha’s hand, tugging him out of the doctor’s office and all the way to the car.

 

“Can we go to the grocery store?”

 

“Sure, babe. We out of yogurt or something?”

 

“I don’t think so. There’s just a few things I need to grab.”

 

They stop at Meijer’s on the way home, and Harry rushes inside with Louis trailing behind him. He feels giddy as he searches the aisles for foods that could help him—lots of proteins and complex carbohydrates, like salmon and whole grain bread. Fish definitely isn’t his favorite food, but he’s willing to do what he has to. He’ll do anything.

 

By the time he’s finished, the cart is full of healthy foods, including a ton of fruit, like pineapple and blueberries. Louis is looking at him strangely but not questioning him out loud—Harry knows he looks a bit crazy, running around and finding these very specific items, but he can’t help it. For the first time in a while there’s hope bubbling in his chest and he wants to do this right.

 

On the way home, he tells Louis all about how they need to bond, but he very deliberately leaves out the infertility part of the conversation. He isn’t sure why he does this, he just knows that he does. With Harry’s one hand clasped in Louis’ over the center console, Harry uses his other hand to Google search _ideal weight for pregnancy_ followed by _fertility weight_ once he learns the term. Then he calculates his BMI and with an anxious trill running through him he realizes his BMI is almost too low. He’ll have to eat more, then. Maybe that’s the reason he’s sterile. His thoughts of being too gaunt for an omega have been confirmed and solidified, the hatred he has for his body justified.

 

When they finally arrive home, they put the groceries away in the fridge in silence. Louis still doesn’t ask, and Harry is glad.

 

So they spend the day on the beach. For any amount of unexplainable reasons, it feels like a better idea to bond at night. During the sunset, maybe. Something romantic. Harry’s life has been depressingly void of romance for years, and this is really his first chance to fill that emptiness.

 

Louis treads water while Harry relaxes on a raft, his hand hanging off the edge, fingers drifting through the cold water. They talk about a lot of things, like their favorite movies, followed by stupid stories from when they first presented, but eventually the topic turns to bonding, and that’s when things get intimate.

 

“Tell me how you want to do it,” Louis whispers, lifting a dripping hand from the freezing water to caress Harry’s cheek. Harry is lying on his back, but his head is turned to the side so he can watch Louis and enjoy how beautiful he looks in the bright sunlight.

 

“I don’t know,” Harry lies.

 

“You do, though. I know you do, so tell me how you want to do it.”

 

“But what about what you want?”

 

“I want to do whatever makes you happy, Harry. So tell me.”

 

Harry closes his eyes, just feeling Louis stroke his skin gently with his icy fingers.

 

“Harry…”

 

“Fine. What are my options?”

 

“Well, we could do it in my room, or on the beach.”

 

“We could?”

 

Louis laughs, leaning in to kiss Harry’s nose. His lips are cold and wet against the omega’s skin. “I told you, whatever you want.”

 

“I like the beach. I hadn’t known that was an option.” Originally he had been thinking of bonding in Louis’ bed, with Louis over him. Not very creative or out-of-the-box, but he doesn’t need anything crazy. He just wants to feel safe and loved. He just wants Louis.

 

“Mmm, yeah. We can fuck on the beach by the bonfire, with the waves and the wind. Make love beneath the stars.”

 

_Make love make love make love…_

 

Shyly, Harry admits, “I like that.” He avoids Louis’ constant gaze when he adds, “Can we do that?”

 

“Of course, baby,” Louis whispers, pressing soft kisses to Harry’s closed eyelids. “Anything you want.” His lips warm up the more he kisses, and the sensation is so pleasurable Harry feels like he could lie here forever. With the sun warming his skin and the cool water below him, and Louis glowing more radiantly than anything in the universe.

 

Harry inhales deeply, breathing in the fresh scent of the lake air mixing in with the constant comforting scent of Louis. “Okay.” He pulls his hand out of the water to bring his fingers to the alpha’s cheeks as he presses their lips together passionately. His skin is silken soft beneath his fingers. “I love you. Did you know that?”

 

Those three words should feel strange coming out of his mouth, considering Harry was quite frankly so uncertain about everything up until recently. But they don’t. They don’t feel strange at all.

 

Louis beams like the sun—brighter than the sun, even—and looks like he wants to climb onto Harry’s raft just to lie on top of him and encompass Harry’s body with his own. To smother him with warmth and love. He doesn’t, but there’s that look in his eyes, full of affection, like he wants every part of himself to be in contact with Harry. Like he never wants them to be apart. Like he can’t stand for them to be separated even if it is only visceral. Harry definitely feels the same way.

 

“I did know that,” Louis agrees, teasingly, leaning in just to kiss him again, eyes big and wide and _blue blue blue_. They’re surrounded by blue, encompassed in it, even, with the water and the sky, but nothing is more beautiful than the color of his eyes. Of all the seas and all the oceans… No other blue in the universe can even begin to compare. “And I love you.”

 

“Say it again.”

 

“I love you, Harry Edward Styles.”

 

Harry melts. “Again.”

 

“ _I love you_.”

 

“One more time,” The omega whispers, heart fluttering in his chest from affection. After months of being so starved from it, from this warm feeling of love, he just wants to bathe in this moment for a while longer.

 

Louis finally gives in and clambers up onto the raft, drifting wet, skin sun-kissed and everything about him just gorgeous with the blue backdrop of sea and sky. He’s dripping icy water all over Harry but Harry doesn’t mind, not when his alpha is sitting on his hips and very gently trailing his wet fingers all over Harry’s skin, with reverence.

 

“I love you, more than anything in the universe. I love you always. I love you.”

 

“You’re so lovely,” Harry tells him in an awestruck whisper, enthralled by Louis’ beauty and magnificence. He sets his hands on the alpha’s hips, right in the comfortable space where it feels like they belong, and watches his alpha above him. In the deep sunlight, he transforms into something otherworldly.

 

Louis shakes his head slowly like he doesn’t agree, still just sitting there and looking at Harry spread beneath him with admiration and adoration. He traces his fingers at the bottom of Harry’s ribcage, his touch so reverent it makes the omega ache. “You’re lovelier. The loveliest.”

 

Harry leans up. Louis leans down. They meet halfway for a kiss that lasts forever because they’re so desperate for each other. They could get lost in each other. Neither one of them wants to pull away, to break contact, so when they run out of breath they gasp into each other’s skin but continue kissing. The midday sun is pleasantly warm on their skin, the lake beneath them cold, as the waves rock them together languidly. Everything is beautiful. Everything is divine.

 

Eventually, of course, with gravity and physics and the instability of their precarious position, the raft tips over. It sends them both to the water shrieking, flailing, and laughing. Louis gets a mouth full of water and Harry gets a chill deep in his bones he can’t get rid of, but they swim to shore together with stars in their eyes and affection in their hearts.

 

Harry spends the remainder of the afternoon tucked into Louis’ side on the sun room couch, utilizing his omnipresent warmth. Louis lets the omega pretend he’s smaller than he really is, throwing an arm around his shoulder and allowing him to curl into his side. They’re quiet now, not talking much, just enjoying each other’s presence and getting to know each other implicitly by touch and scent. Harry tucks his face into the alpha’s neck, feeling warm and soft and safe.

 

On every inhale he enjoys the smell of Louis and his alpha-ness. That all-encompassing fragrance that sets his nerve-endings at ease, calming the thrumming in his veins.

 

“Hey, we have the entire house to ourselves for the next twenty-four hours.”

 

“Mmm, do we?” Harry mutters into Louis’ neck, on the verge of sleep.

 

“Yeah, we do.”

 

“That’s good. I like that…”

 

“Just tell me when.”

 

“Okay. Later, when it’s dark out.”

 

“You’re sure about the beach?”

 

“Yes, if you are.”

 

“I am.”

 

“Good, that’s what I really, really want.”

 

“Okay. I love you.”

 

Butterflies flutter in Harry’s middle. “I love you too.”

 

“We can have dinner and then go for a sunset walk, yeah?”

 

Harry smiles, wrapping his arms tighter around his almost-alpha. He feels small and omega-like for once in his life, with the way Louis is holding him like he’s protecting him, guarding him, and keeping him safe. “Please.”

 

“Alright, baby. Go to sleep now, yeah? I know you’re tired.”

 

“Mmmkay…”

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

Harry is awoken at dinnertime to soft lips kissing his own, just warm and sweet and lovely. He blinks slowly, eyes adjusting, and sees the room splayed in golden light from the sun which is slowly dipping down the sky. Louis pulls back smiling, eyes crinkling, and Harry thinks he has never been so much in love.

 

They eat dinner outside—grilled salmon with spinach salad, peaches, and pineapple. Harry has a glass of whole milk, which is something he never drinks, but again Louis is courteous not enough to question it. In his mind Harry is praying it will help. Praying it will do something. He eats until he’s full, and then he remembers his low BMI and he eats a little more. If he’s going to try this he needs to make sure he’s doing everything right. There’s no room for mistakes when any factor could be the one to ruin his future.

 

“I thought it was over,” Harry whispers during a long silence in conversation. Albeit, a comfortable silence, when they were both staring out at the way the sun scintillated on the lake like diamonds.

 

“What’s that?” The alpha hums absently.

 

“I thought I would be with him forever. When he bit me again. I had given up.”

 

Louis sets his hands on the middle of the table, palms up. An obvious invitation for Harry to put his hands in his grasp. He does, and rejoices in the way the simple touch calms him.

 

“You didn’t, though. You didn’t give up. You were so brave… You had the courage to get away from him. To ask for help. And you succeeded.”

 

When Harry closes his eyes, he can almost picture it. His almost-future, the one with his horrendous monster of an alpha. His almost-future full of darkness and oppression. Abuse and force and pain and fear. Everything dark and horrid and awful.

 

But now he closes his eyes and he doesn’t think about it, about the horror that has been tearing him apart for months. He just. Doesn’t think about it. Instead he feels the pull of the waves from the lake just a short distance away, and the steady breeze kissing his skin, and the way his hands feel in Louis’. He feels at peace.

 

Realistically, the trauma will always remain, in some way, shape, or form. Of course it will. The body and mind will never forget torture and distress that extreme. He’s certain he’ll never be fully recovered. But that’s okay. He’s learning that that’s okay. So much goes into recovering from a traumatic period of his life and he knows he has to be patient.

 

So even in the darkness behind his eyelids, he doesn’t panic. He doesn’t think much of his almost-future. Instead he relishes in the spaces between the seconds and tries his hardest to experience _now_ and not _maybe_.

 

They walk down the beach as the sun sets, making it all the way to the small peninsula they stopped at during that first walk alone together, more than a month ago. Harry reminisces in the memory but finds himself feeling relieved to not be as afraid and uncertain as he had been during that time.

 

Louis is watching Harry and he must see the emotion flicker across the omega’s face, because he clutches his hand tighter and pulls him in for a hug. The waves crash over their feet, water warm from the day in the sun. Far away, a flock of seagulls land on an inlet. The cacophony of their squawking is barely heard over the crash of the waves and the steadiness of the nighttime wind. The sky is shades of pink and violet mixing together to create a palette so stunning, only the earth is capable of producing it.

 

The sun has fallen below the clear linear of the horizon by the time they reach the house again. In the gloaming hour of fading light, Louis is absolutely glowing.

 

“Wait here while I get everything set up, yeah?”

 

Harry nods in agreement, warmth tingling through his body when Louis kisses him quickly on the cheek before running up the stairs to the house. He waits patient and perfectly still, not wanting to do a single thing wrong and displease his alpha. By the time Louis is back, his arms are full of blanks but he drops them to the sand when he sees Harry waiting there for him.

 

A soft smile spreads across his face as he strides forward, pulling his hands up to Harry’s face to stroke at his cheeks and press their lips together. “You’re so good, baby. So good for me.”

 

The part of Harry that is very distinctly omega preens at the compliment, swooning internally and threatening to burst out of him any second now. Face heating up, he blushes, feeling very pleased to be pleasing an alpha. More specifically, pleasing his soon-to-be alpha. His heart flutters with excitement and anticipation.

 

Louis gets the fire going, encouraging the small flicker of a flame until it transforms into a full bonfire that emits warmth even from where Harry is waiting, yards away. The air is still relatively warm right now, but the temperature will dip during the night and Harry knows they’ll be cold without the heat of the fire beside them.

 

Harry helps out by clearing a spot in the sand free of stones and other debris. He spreads the large duvet over the smooth sand and straightens it out until it’s perfect. There’s a bundle of other blankets that Louis brought down, and beside that there’s a neat pile of extra jumpers to keep them warm in the night.

 

When Harry looks back towards Louis, he finds Louis already gazing at him. His eyes are dark, his stare intense, pale irises glowing yellow in the firelight, the dance of the flames making them twinkle light they’re full of stars. Illuminated by the red and orange of the fire, shadowed by the evening’s growing darkness, he looks ethereal.

 

So Harry stands from his kneeling position on the blanket and cross the sand to meet him at the fire. When he gets closer, Louis turns towards him, all his attention shifted to the omega, body opening up and inviting him closer.

 

Closer, like a whisper. _Come here. Come closer._

 

And Harry answers silently. _Always._

 

They kiss beside the fire and amongst the stars, mixing spit and scent and love. Curling into each other like their bodies are molded for each other’s, they sink into an embrace so full of affection it leaves Harry dizzy with lust and the thrill of absolute devotion. His heart is the one that tells him to grab Louis by the hands and tug him back to the duvet in the sand.

 

They settle down onto the comforter, with Harry’s back pressed against it and Louis on top of him. Legs entangled, hands roaming, lips everywhere. It’s everything all at once—so overwhelming but so amazing. Skin on skin and lips on lips. Love on love. Harry spreads his legs and lets Louis sink in between them until they’re rutting together for the pleasure of friction and constant pressure.

 

Lust and desire are two very prominent sensations telling Harry to expedite the process but he pushes the thoughts away and enjoys the steady delight of slipping his hands beneath Louis’ t-shirt and running his hands all over his strong back. He feels the ridges of his ribcage and the ripple of his muscles beneath his fingertips as Harry strokes all around, desperate just to touch, just to be close.

 

Sometimes in life there are occasions when gender becomes glaringly obvious. This is one of those occasions. Suddenly Harry is hyperaware that he is an omega and he has this beautiful alpha pressing him into the sand. Grinding their hips together. Kissing his neck.

 

God, his _neck_. Harry can’t help but become increasingly vocal when Louis starts licking the skin at the junction of his neck and shoulder. When his teeth graze the flesh right beside the original bitemark, the omega is helpless to do anything but outwardly moan in encouragement. His veins are thrumming with pure desire and he wants nothing more than for Louis to sink his teeth in deep and mark him his.

 

“You’re mine,” Louis whispers forcefully, the sound muffled by the way he doesn’t stop or pull away.

 

“I’m yours,” Harry gasps, eyes squeezing shut, everything overwhelming. Above it all, there’s the distinct need to be claimed. To be marked and possessed and taken care of by the only person who truly knows how to do it right. “I’m yours.”

 

Much to the omega’s dismay, Louis pulls away from his neck. Harry whines at the loss of contact but Louis shushes him and helps him out of his jumper, stripping out of his own t-shirt as well until they’re both topless.

 

The scent of them together is so good it’s dizzying. Disorienting. Stars swim in Harry’s vision at the distinct realization that evergreens are mixing with flowers in a way that feels so _right_. Of course their scents go well together, of course they do. Harry is convinced Louis is perfect for him in every way possible.

 

Through messy movements and unfocused fumbling, the two of them eventually strip down to nothing, tossing their clothes aside carelessly. There are more important matters to deal with first, though Harry knows they’ll probably regret the haphazardness later when the air turns cold and they want to get dressed again.

 

No matter, because Louis is kissing all over his stomach and telling him how beautiful he is, how lovely. Harry’s thighs are dripping with slick by the time Louis makes it south enough to kiss teasingly at his shaft, making Harry squirm and groan indignantly. The alpha laughs, somewhat giddy but mostly just pleased with Harry’s very enthusiastic reaction.

 

The small moment of jest ends quickly though, because Louis is asking Harry for permission before slipping a finger inside him very gently. The sensation of the welcome intrusion is otherworldly despite it just being a finger. Otherworldly, maybe, because it’s Louis’ finger. Harry’s almost-alpha. Almost. _Almost_.

 

“Bite me,” Harry gasps, arching his back as soon as Louis starts to fuck him with his index, slow and steady as if the caution is needed. Between all his slick and the way there’s nothing in the world he wants more than this right at this very moment, the caution is not necessary. “Please, please bite me.”

 

“Soon, baby. When I’m inside you.”

 

“You are inside me,” Harry argues, the words slightly melting into each other though he is still somehow coherent enough to gesture towards Louis’ lone finger which is in fact inside him.

 

“When you’re on my knot,” Louis clarifies, between sucking a love bite onto the inside of Harry’s thigh. He must decide to humor the omega because he very deliberately adds, “Full of my come. Onto your third orgasm of the night or maybe even your fourth…”

 

_Fuck_ , Harry thinks very clearly, heart hammering with the weight of all his lust. That’s a lot for him to deal with so he gives into the urges and allows himself to become ruled by instinct. Hips bucking up, he begs for a second finger and then another one after that. Louis complies, filling him easily, twisting his fingers and spreading them out, slick dripping down his wrist and filing the air with a potent floral scent that mixes so gorgeously with Louis’ alpha pine. The wind rolling in off the lake does little to dissipate the ambrosial fragrance, but it does add a very natural counterpart—the perfume of the sand and wind, lake water and bonfire. Together, Harry is dizzy with it.

 

Despite the fact that the two of them are out in the open, on the beach and beneath the stars, so completely vulnerable… He feels safe. Safe and protected because Louis is there, taking care of him, encompassing him with his body and his scent, making sure nothing will happen to him. Because Louis is Harry’s alpha. Almost.

 

“I’m re- Fuck. I’m ready. Please.”

 

“Shhh, it’s okay love. I’ve got you,” Louis soothes, finally retracting his fingers. “I promise I’ll take care of you.”

 

Harry believes him, but he’s still shaking with want and his heart is thudding, skin burning. Everything is full of lust, full of desire, full of craving and yearning and longing. So when Louis’ eyes are trained on his own he lets out a whimper, gasping, “I need you, alpha.”

 

Right, so those seem to be the magic words. Because in an instant Louis is gathering him up in his arms, pressing their bodies together until the space between them is infinitesimal. He kisses Harry hard and then locks their gazes as if asking for permission. As if Harry hasn’t just spent the past ten minutes begging for exactly this.

 

Louis gets the message, pushing in slowly. Harry opens his legs wider, arms hooked around the alpha’s shoulders to keep their bodies pressed together, no more space between them. Joined in every way possible, body and soul.

 

“I love you.”

 

Harry doesn’t have the words to respond, so he nods dazedly and bucks his hips up to show Louis he can move.

 

So he does, pulling out only to thrust back in with a gentle force that sends Harry gasping at the pleasure that shoots up his spine. There are tears in his eyes not out of pain nor sadness, but because of the sheer happiness he feels in this moment. When he looks up at Louis above him he sees his beautiful alpha and the stars behind him, all-encompassing like a silken blanket that shimmers and glows with pinpricks of flames.

 

Beyond the stars is the lullaby of the waves against the shore, languid in their charge. Crashing in a rhythmic melody that turns into the pace of Louis’ thrusts, careful and steady.

 

Kisses trail from the corner of Harry’s jaw to his chin, then down the column of his throat and all over the side of his neck. Skin littered with bruises of varying degrees. Louis licks at the spot he will soon bite, sucking gently enough to make Harry mewl.

 

In the heavy haze of the night, his orgasm sneaks up on him. Dazed by the stars and the fire and the sight of an angel above him, Harry comes unexpectedly, cock untouched, spilling all over his stomach. He moans all the way through it, tears prickling the corners of his eyes, his heart stuttering and fluttering against his ribcage.

 

_So good for me_ , Louis whispers into his collarbones, his arms still bracketing either side of Harry to keep himself hovering over him slightly, though their tummies do rub together and smear the come all over their skin. _Perfect little omega._

 

Harry isn’t little or omega-like at all but when Louis tells him he is, because he knows it’s what Harry wants to hear, Harry can’t help but partly believe it. Especially now, when an alpha is praising him for coming and for taking his cock so well. As out of it as he may be, Harry preens with it.

 

There’s a certain fulfillment Harry feels, deep in his bones, when he feels Louis’ knot stretching him. The burn should be painful but it truly isn’t; all he feels is the omega-satisfaction of being knotted. One of the strongest drives an omega will ever feel is the drive to be knotted, and to have that lifelong need to be suddenly satisfied, feels so indescribably heavenly his mind blanks, vision blurring until the stars swirl together in what would make a beautiful painting.

 

When his knot gets too big to move without hurting Harry, Louis pushes in the rest of the way and stills, sighing heavily as Harry comes once more and Louis comes too, inside him.

 

They kiss again, hard and sloppy, too tired for the proper mechanics of a good make-out. When Louis pulls away he noses at Harry’s cheek and says, “I’ll protect you. I’ll keep you safe and happy and in love. Always.”

 

Harry wants to respond with the equivalent declaration of love and devotion. Yet the words aren’t quite out of his mouth before Louis shifts to his neck and he sucks at the love bite he has been working on all night.

 

“Here. I want to bond you right here.”

 

“Do it,” Harry urges. “Please, alpha. My alpha.”

 

Three more kisses are pressed to the blissfully sore bruise, not yet a bitemark. “My omega.”

 

The pleasure of Louis sinking his teeth into Harry’s skin is so incomparable to anything he’s ever felt before, it becomes indescribable. His vision blurs with tears again and this time they spill, trailing down his cheeks and wetting the duvet. Dripping on Louis, too, who is still biting a mark right above the ugly scar that now marks only a dark period of Harry’s life and nothing more. Because that isn’t his future. This is.

 

It feels like a shimmery thread is wound around them, binding them together in an intangible way. Suddenly, Harry feels this overwhelming sensation of a feeling so vast and immense, his mind doesn’t process it immediately. But his heart knows what it is. His heart screams _love_.

 

Love, affection, and admiration. The top three emotions Louis feels at this very moment. Harry can feel these three emotions very distinctly because the thread is wound around them and in an instant he knows the bond has formed. His heart begins fluttering again, out of deep elation. And his omega has never been happier.

 

The bond is thin now. Weak is the wrong word to describe it because there is nothing about their love that is weak. But the thread is thin and it will strengthen with time. The more moments they spend together, the more they will be infinitely bound by their breath of their souls. Harry has the rest of eternity with Louis and if that isn’t enough to make him smile, he doesn’t know what is.

 

There is no need for words now, at least not in this moment. All the emotions they feel for each other are communicated through that thin golden thread. With the way Louis is looking at him, Harry is certain Louis feels the immensity of their compatibility as well. It’s impossible to overlook.

 

Through the haze Harry has a very distinct thought. It is this:

 

_I have a chance._

 

Hope swells in his chest as he remembers he may not actually be infertile. He may actually have a chance at becoming pregnant. Thinking about Louis’ come which is locked inside Harry by his knot, hope thrums through his veins and he can’t stop thinking, _please. Please, please give me a chance. Please let it be true._

 

If he thinks it hard enough, he may be able to will it into existence. Maybe.

 

Louis is back to sucking hickeys and biting small marks all over Harry’s neck, marking him _his_. It makes Harry smiles so he lets Louis do it without protest, despite how excessive it is. His omega is preening with absolute bliss and everything is perfect.

 

“We did it,” Harry whispers to the stars. His eyelashes flutter with exhaustion, his entire body ready to sleep for about a year or maybe even a decade.

 

“We did,” Louis agrees, shifting his hips enough to make the omega moan in pleasure. “Are you comfy?”

 

“Mhmm.”

 

“Good. I love you, Harry.”

 

“I love you too.”

 

Louis gets comfortable on top of the omega, arranging their limbs a bit so no one will get a crick in their muscles in the morning. Then he collapses on top of Harry, nuzzling into his love-bite-laden neck and inhaling deeply. He rubs his wrists all over Harry’s sides to scent-mark him even though every part of Harry smells like Louis.

 

“Sleepy?”

 

“Very.”

 

Louis kisses at his cheek and then goes back to nuzzling in his neck.

 

With their legs entangled, and the weight of Louis on top of him, Harry feels undeniably safe. Protected by the way Louis has him all curled up beneath him, covering him with his own body to guard him from whatever threat may come. With every part of him satisfied, Harry closes his eyes and drifts off, encompassed by the affection channeled to him from that thin golden thread.

 

Above them, the stars shine and shimmer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking around despite the amount of time it took for me to write this chapter.
> 
> Hopefully you enjoyed this :) I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments.
> 
> More to come.
> 
> [Come talk to me on Tumblr <3](http://angelichl.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Love always,  
> [Adri](http://mortuusflores.tumblr.com/)


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright y'all HERE IT IS. I'M SO SORRY FOR BEING ALMOST A YEAR LATE. SO SORRY.
> 
> This is only 4.3k words so don't expect much! I just needed to prove to you all and to myself that I haven't abandoned this fic and I WILL finish it.
> 
> Your kind messages on this fic have made me cry happy tears so many times, thank you so much for all of your support. Really, I wouldn't be writing this without you all helping me through it <3
> 
> Enjoy.

 

 

_ “My Love: I love you for your clarity, your dark.” _   
—Pablo Neruda

  
  


Waking up is like rebirth in a sickening fashion. Opening dazed, tired eyes to the melted periwinkle sky glowing yellow like candle wax at the horizon, that disorienting gradient of pigment. Breathing long and slow and deep, lungs filling with fresh air that tastes like crystal clear lake water. Everything is vibrant in the morning light.

 

Then there are the internal sensations which overwhelm him to the point of fading dizziness like the dissipation of a dream. Above it all, there’s this heavy weight pressing on his heart from the inside out. This quiet voice in his mind chanting  _ love love love  _ and  _ safe safe safe _ .

 

Despite it all, his entire body aches like hell.

 

“Alpha?”

 

He doesn’t mean for his voice to come out sounding so shaky, but it does, all sleep-ridden and gravelly like he lost his voice screaming or moaning or whatever it was he was doing last night. He doesn’t even remember. It’s all a blur of lust and passion.

 

The only thing he can recall in striking clarity is the feeling of the first push inside, that frightening warmth like entrapment and comfort all in one, that sickening panic like  _ holy shit he’s going to hurt me just as I’ve been hurt before too many times to count _ .

 

Of course, Louis didn’t hurt him one bit, if you don’t count the stretch of his knot popping, but that was more of a comfortable, welcomed sensation than anything. A necessary evil. The ache he feels right now is different from after-sex soreness, but similar to the gross longing he usually feels for his original mate, the one who bonded him by force.

 

The thing is, it feels as though his omega is being pulled in two different directions and he doesn’t know which way to turn, which place to go. Through the uncertainty and mixed messages, it makes sense. Technically, Harry realizes, he’s bonded to two different alphas right now. That’s bound to cause his inner omega an immense amount of painful confusion.

 

The deep, dull sound of Harry’s strained voice is immediately matched with soft lips on his mouth, kissing sweetly. Louis is still lying on top of him, and has presumably remained there all night, caging him in with his arms bracketed on either side of him like he’s protecting the omega from every wicked depravity in the world. He kind of is.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

At the sight of Louis’ blue eyes, striking in their paleness, complimented by the color of the sky above, Harry suddenly feels breathless. “Fine,” he gasps, squeezing his eyes shut because if he looks at Louis,  _ his mate _ , any longer he’ll fall to pieces. Turn to dust.

 

Louis nuzzles close, burying his face in Harry’s neck and breathing him in. All the while, he presses heady kisses over the fresh bondmark, causing the omega to shiver with satisfied pleasure, trembling. They’re both naked and sticky with sweat and come, but there’s something warm about it, something safe. Even through the ache, Harry feels reassured that everything will be okay.

 

“What now?”

 

“Whatever you want,” his alpha tells him, whispering it into his neck, breath tickling the bondmark.

 

Harry gets distracted and wonders if they’ll have sex again. He doesn’t answer, but his legs fall open without him meaning to do so and Louis notices. The alpha doesn’t say anything but Harry can feel him smiling into his neck, lips curved up as he coaxes Harry’s legs open wider and slips two fingers inside him. Stars shimmer in his vision and he closes his eyes to stop the swirling. He’s still open from last night.

 

Louis fucks him slow and sweet just like the night before, except today the backdrop is the morning sky instead of the stars. There’s a metaphor there but Harry is too distracted to dissect it. When he presses in it feels like a spiritual experience, like a revelation. The waves lap against the shore in that same languidly unchanging rhythm. Harry gets lost in Louis’ scent which smells even sweeter now that they’re bonded. It’s addictive, the warm feeling curling throughout his body, and he never wants to let go.

 

He’s a little sore when Louis becomes locked inside him, and there’s a small moment of mirrored panic where Harry tries to pull away because it feels like he’s being split apart from the inside out. But moving only makes the discomfort more painful so he whimpers helplessly and calms only when Louis kisses him hard and strokes him with the hand that isn’t holding himself up. For the most part, Harry’s omega is insanely pleased. There’s not a single complaint relating to anything that’s actually within Louis’ control.

 

“I know baby, it’s okay,” Louis kisses the words into his skin like he’s telling a love story. “Look at you, doing so well. Taking me so well. My perfect omega.”

 

The praise is pleasant and comforting, making Harry’s insides feel fluttery. His mind wanders to a faraway place of bliss and nothing can bring him back down to earth.

  
  
  
  


…

  
  
  
  


“Alright?”

 

“Yeah, fine, I just. I dunno.”

 

It’s midmorning and they’re standing in the kitchen now after eating breakfast. It hasn’t been awkward, per se, but stilted in a way, where neither one of them knows what to say. Harry really needs to shower but frankly he’s exhausted and feels like shit. This isn’t the pleasure he imagined all his life when he thought of bonding with someone he loves.

 

“Okay… Do you wanna take a nap?” Louis asks slowly, like he’s afraid of upsetting Harry further.

 

Harry twists his fingers in the hem of his t-shirt and shifts nervously. “Ehm, yeah. I think I’ll go to my nest?”

 

“Okay.” Louis starts following him down the hall, making Harry slightly nervous, before he stops abruptly. “Wait- Oh. You mean without me.”

 

The omega’s apologetic silence is all the answer he needs.

 

Louis sighs, kissing Harry sweetly on the forehead. “Come back to me soon, okay? And if you really don’t feel well please find me, love, you know I can make you feel better. We’re in this together, now.”

 

Harry retires to his nest, closing the door behind him. He wishes it had a lock on it, but it doesn’t, which makes him feel uneasy and even unsafe.

 

His life is such a mess, not even bonding his soulmate will make any of it better. He’s been traumatized to the point of no return and sometimes it feels like he’ll never recover from the horror of his past. Right now, the confusion in his body is making him feel physically sick, nauseous and dizzy.

 

He thinks of the months spent with his old mate and knows this is different, now, but wonders why. Louis is kind to him, careful and sweet but he’s an alpha just like the rest and now he owns Harry, in a way. Not that Harry believes Louis would ever intentionally hurt him, but there are things neither of them can escape, like dynamics of power and who makes the decisions, who follows behind.

 

Louis is gentle and loving and should be with an omega who’s equally as amazing. An omega who’s stable and healthy and not hiding in a closet trying and failing to calm his breathing.

 

It’s a shame, really, that he can’t be the mate Louis deserves.

  
  
  
  


…

  
  
  
  


He stays in his nest for three days, sleeping almost the entire time.

 

Every so often there will be a soft knock on the door and the sound of footsteps padding away. Harry will wait until he can’t hear them anymore to open the door and find a plate of food waiting for him, with a post-it note that says the same thing every time:

 

_ I love you. _

 

It makes Harry feel guilty but also warm inside at the thought of his true alpha taking care of him. Never in his life has he felt such care and love, and it’s a lot to handle especially when he feels so sick and confused.

 

The thing is, he wants to be good. He wants to be the perfect mate for Louis, he wants to be a good omega and everything an alpha could ever hope for. It’s just that right now, he’s not sure if he has enough energy within him to even begin. To even try.

 

So he sleeps the days away and eats the meals Louis makes for him, trying not to pity himself too much. The only time he leaves his nest is to go to the bathroom, only traveling a little bit down the hall, and always doing it when he’s sure no one else will see him.

 

It happens on the fourth morning after Louis bit him… He wakes up to the darkness of his nest and the way it smells like himself, like comfort, and realizes he doesn’t feel so sick anymore. In fact, he might even feel okay. For once in his life.

 

There’s this weird thrumming in his veins, this strange pull in his heart like a rope is tied to it and someone on the other end is tugging, pulling him in their direction.

 

And then, he feels things. Things like,  _ I love you. I’m worried about you. Please be okay. Please love me back. _

 

_ I’m afraid you don’t love me back. _

 

Before he knows what he’s doing, for the first time in days Harry leaves the safety of his nest and wanders down the hallway… past the living room… into the kitchen… into the sunroom… to his soul mate.

 

“Harry?”

 

The pull is stronger now, the little voice in his heart which whispers  _ I love you I love you I love you so much, I love you more than anything, please let me love you, please let me keep you safe and make you happy, please let me love you… _ And he goes with it, he lets it pull him, and he ends up nearly catapulting himself onto his alpha, no care for logistics or physics or any of it, how he’s bigger than his alpha and could potentially crush him, just thinking,  _ I have to be close to him, I have to be close to my alpha, I have to love him, forever. _

 

Luckily Louis is already sitting down, or else Harry would have knocked him clear to the floor from the sheer force at which he jumps on him. His alpha may be strong but he’s gentle with Harry and it’s a perfect storm when he’s so completely caught off guard like this, not even thinking he’d ever get Harry out of his nest again, especially not so soon.

 

“Christ, okay,” Louis wheezes, the breath knocked out of him, as Harry clambers fully into his lap and squeezes him tightly, vowing to never let go. He buries his face in his alpha’s neck, pressing his nose right beneath his ear and inhaling his scent, pine needles and summertime and _ coming home. _ He doesn’t know why he suddenly feels better but the pressure within him that’s usually trying to tear him in half is almost completely gone now and all he wants to do is be close to his alpha.

 

Overcome with emotion, he bursts into tears and stays right like that, feeling the golden thread between their hearts tighten and strengthen as their physical touch fortifies the connection. So this is what he needed, then, to stop feeling so sick. He just needed to be close to Louis, to be comforted by him, to be cuddled and hugged and loved.

 

The more he pays attention, the more he hears that voice, the one that’s coming from his heart. Whispering, _ I love you. Please be okay. I’m so worried. I love you more than anything. _ And he knows then that it’s Louis heart speaking to his own, through the connection between them. Their soul bond.

 

God, they’re not just bond mates. They’re   _ soul mates. _

 

“I’m so sorry,” Harry wails, suddenly overcome with it all. He wraps his arms tightly around Louis’ neck, clinging to him like a lifeline. Like an anchor, keeping him grounded. Keeping him sane. “I love you so much. You’re _ my alpha.” _

 

“Alright, baby, it’s okay,” Louis soothes, finally seeming to snap out of whatever haze of shock he was in. He strokes Harry’s back to comfort and soothe him, each touch sending tingles of pleasure throughout Harry’s body like shooting stars. “It’s okay, honey, I’m here. I love you.”

 

“I’m the worst,” he sniffles, slipping down lower to press his ear to Louis’ beating heart just to listen to its steadiness, the way it beats for him. The way it thuds like a drumbeat, the rhythm soft and soothing. “I hid from you.”

 

“It’s okay Harry, I promise. I’m just happy I have you now.”

 

“You must hate me,” he whimpers.

 

Louis pets his hair, his hands gentle and loving as always. “Don’t say that. You know I love you more than anything. You’ve been through so much. You’re so strong.”

 

For once, Harry believes what he says, because he can feel it. He can feel it through their bond, through the golden thread that connects their hearts, growing stronger and stronger as the moments pass. The more time they spend together, the stronger the bond becomes. Harry can’t wait.

 

“I love you,” he tells Louis again, even though he knows Louis can feel it too.

 

Louis nods and smiles at him, caressing his face with a hand on his cheek, wiping away the messy tears. “I love you too, darling,” he whispers sweetly, and it’s undeniable now, the intangible golden thread between them that pours their emotions into the other, a steady stream of love that flows both ways. The feeling is absolutely euphoric.

 

“I’m so sorry for hiding from you.”

 

“It’s alright, I promise,” Louis soothes. “I could feel how much pain you were in. I understand.”

 

“I can… I can feel your heart inside of mine,” Harry whispers, clinging to Louis as tightly as he can, too afraid of what might happen if he ever lets go. “It’s… I dunno. I’ve never- When I was with him, I never felt this way. He was always so far away, even when he was right there.” And Harry is glad for that. He shivers, thinking about what it would’ve been like if his heart had been connected to the alpha’s who kidnapped him.

 

“It’s incredible,” Louis agrees, petting Harry’s back with his hand smoothing over the material of his shirt. “It’s something only soulmates feel.”

 

They stay like that for a while, tangled up in each other. Harry stops crying quite quickly, now that he’s encompassed by Louis’ warmth and comfort. He’s never felt safer. Never felt happier. He nuzzles his face into the crook of Louis’ neck and inhales his scent as much as he can, letting it wash over him like the waves outside, lulling him to a different plane of existence, one that’s lofty and far away and so, so pleasurable.

 

Louis’ scent smells the same as it did before, like sun-dried pine needles and the comforting warmth of an evergreen forest during summertime, the peeling bark and soft green moss, the earth damp with rain. But the meaning is different now, and that’s what makes it even more pleasurable, the fact that this scent doesn’t just belong to a kind alpha that Harry’s attracted to, but it belongs to his bondmate. His soulmate. The scent now means happiness, love, safety, home…

 

Louis rocks Harry back and forth until his tears are dry and they both can’t help but laugh a little bit at how ridiculous everything is. Everything they’ve been through, everything that’s happened within the past few months. All the pain and confusion, and how silly it seems that it’s all so easily remedied by bonding.

 

“Feeling better, love?”

 

“Feel so good with you,” Harry whispers into his neck, leaving a few playful kisses on his soft skin just there, the tender spot beneath his ear. With a flush of excitement he realizes he could potentially leave his mark on Louis’ neck just like Louis did to him, sinking his teeth in and marking Louis as his. An omega’s reciprocal mark isn’t the most common thing in the world but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen, really. Mostly only loved up couples participate in double-marking but that doesn’t mean Harry and Louis can’t do it too.

 

Out of curiosity, Harry opens his mouth and glosses his teeth over Louis’ skin, nibbling gently. The alpha tenses, hand clenching where it’s wrapped around Harry’s shoulder, before he laughs. Harry bites a little harder, indignant, and begins sucking to make a hickey.

 

“You’re adorable,” Louis tells him, petting his hair. “And for the record, I love double marks. Just so you know.”

 

Harry hums and continues sucking Louis’ skin. Maybe one day, perhaps even soon, he’ll sink his teeth into Louis’ neck and claim him as his own, but for now he’s happy with this. Once he satisfied with his work, retreating to admire it after licking over the sore skin with his tongue to sooth it, he slides of Louis’ laugh to sit next to him. His legs must be numb from Harry sitting on top of him for so long.

 

Louis is watching him fondly and Harry looks back just the same, feeling warm and fuzzy inside. When he thinks about it now he realizes the pain has almost completely dissipated, swept away by Louis’ love for him and his love for Louis in return.

 

“It’s just been so long…” he tells his alpha, feeling a little emotional at the thought that this is the first time he has felt true, unadulterated happiness in a long, long time.

 

Louis wraps him in a hug and lets the connection between their hearts speak for him instead. Harry feels it, the gentle loving being conveyed, the promise of always sticking together, of always being there for each other.

 

They stay curled up in the sunroom all day, lounging on the comfy seating, looking out at the trees and the lake and the beautiful blue horizon, steady and omnipresent, a constant to rely on. Only in fog is it obscured, and even then…

 

Harry is glad because for once everything feels righted. Nothing is perfect yet and it never will be, but for now at least he feels okay. There are still worries in his mind, the stressors that continue to impact his life, the fear of being infertile and not being able to fix it, never being able to have kids… The relationship with his alpha mother, how afraid she must be now that Harry is just gone again, much like last time, exactly what she was trying to avoid…

 

But he has Louis now, for good, a bond between them that will keep them together for as long as they’re both alive.

 

+

 

The day passes blissfully, with Louis and Harry completely unwilling to detach themselves from each other. They follow each other around all day, hugging and kissing and always holding hands, fingers interlaced.

 

At dinner, Harry sits on Louis’ lap again and they eat from the same plate, sharing everything. Harry makes sure to eat enough of the foods that supposedly increase fertility, though he doesn’t tell Louis this because he doesn’t want to see the sadness clearly displayed on his mate’s face when they talk about Harry being unable to have pups. Harry doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle the pity, especially when he can feel every single emotion coursing through Louis, no longer any walls between them now that they’re bonded.

 

“Dessert?”

 

In answer, Harry captures his alpha’s lips in a kiss and dips his tongue in, more dominant than he’s ever been in his life, teasing, playful. Mostly, it’s for his own pleasure, but some part of it is definitely influenced by Harry wanting to distract Louis from persuading him to eat an unhealthy treat. If he’s going to do this healthy eating ordeal for the sake of improving his fertility and perhaps fixing whatever mess he’s made of his own body, then he’s going to do it right.

 

Louis seems to get lost in the kiss which is just as well. He stands up from the chair, pulling Harry with him. Harry wraps his legs around Louis’ waist, resting on the jut of his hip bones to keep from falling down, and kisses harder while Louis tries to walk them to the bedroom.

 

“Mine okay?”

 

A line of shiny spit connects their lips as they pull away from each other just enough to be able to form words.

 

“Yes,” Harry gasps, suddenly a whole lot more desperate than even a few minutes ago, before they started kissing. Everything is escalating so quickly but he can’t stop thinking this is  _ my mate, my alpha. _ “Alpha,” he moans, hearing his voice say it out loud and liking how it sounds, especially when he sees Louis’ eyes darken, the way he’s so obviously affected by the name, now that it really means something. “I need you, alpha.  _ Please. _ ”

 

That’s it, then. No more coaxing is needed. Louis kicks the door closed and deposits Harry on the bed, immediately climbing on top of him and rutting their hips together.

 

The room smells of their mixed arousal, forests and flowers, a scent so strong and sensual it makes Harry inhale heavily through his nose, trying to savor it. All day he spent breathing Louis in, memorizing the pine in comparison to his own roses, getting used to how different they both smell now that they’re bonded, falling in love with it. Nothing is more comforting to Harry than the experience of their combined scents, intertwined, every bit of Harry belonging to Louis and vice versa.

 

Now, though, with the intensity of their arousal and the blatant need hanging in the air, Harry feels on edge from how badly he wants this, how badly he wants Louis. Inhaling their scents together makes him feel safe, encompassed by their bond, by the love they feel together. Louis reverently removes Harry’s clothing, slowly, kissing each inch of Harry’s body even though the omega is begging for release, already hard and aching, slick his skin and the sheets beneath him. But it’s the comforting scent in the air, reminding him they’re mated, that makes Harry feel comfortable enough to part his legs when Louis runs his fingers along the insides of his thighs in silent question.

 

“I love you,” Louis tells him as he teases a finger around his rim and then presses it in before Harry can whine too much. “I love you so much. Wanna keep you safe. Make you happy. Give you whatever you want… Take care of you.”

 

“Alpha…” Harry whimpers, not even realizing it as he drags his nails down Louis’ back, harsher than intended, marking him in a way. “Alpha, please…”

 

When Louis enters him for real, everything turns into a dreamy haze full of pleasure.

 

Harry doesn’t remember much of it, mostly just the feeling of his heart soaring at the recognition of Louis’ love for him. There’s no doubt of it, now that their emotions are connected by that golden thread between them, becoming stronger each moment they’re together.

 

No secrets left to hide, at least, that’s the idea. Harry still has a few but he can’t be bothered to care right now, not with the way stars are exploding in his vision and it feels like another world, some faraway galaxy where everything is okay.

 

When he comes back to earth, later, well after the multiple orgasms coaxed out of him by Louis, he finds himself lying on tummy on the mattress, face smushed into one of the fluffy pillows that smells like alpha.

 

Louis is lying on his side next to Harry, rubbing his back and lazily mouthing at his shoulder, leaving faint hickies and little bite marks that fade almost immediately. He seems to notice Harry is coherent again and gives him a sleepy smile, pressing a more insistent kiss to the bare skin of his shoulder.

 

“You good?”

 

“So good,” he whispers, voice cracking. “What happened?”

 

“Spaced out for a while there. But you looked comfortable so I figured you were okay.”

 

“Oh, yeah… Probably just a really good orgasm.”

 

“I’ll bet,” Louis laughs, eyes twinkling. “Ready to go to sleep?”

 

Harry nods, absolutely certain. He’s exhausted. Even though the day was filled kisses and cuddles, everything that’s been happening lately has been emotionally draining and he really feels like he needs to sleep for a solid twelve hours, maybe more. Right now, there’s no reason why that can’t happen.

 

“Louis?”

 

“Yes, love?”

 

Harry closes his eyes again, pressing himself further into the mattress and feeling Louis cuddle closer, draping his body over Harry’s. Keeping him warm. The sliding glass door is open and summer breeze from the lake is blowing into the room, that comforting scent of something natural, the lake and the sand and the trees outside…

 

He thinks back to where he used to be, trapped in the apartment that was really just a warehouse by the river. How scary it was to think he was going to be ensared there forever. No way out. He had already lost hope, long ago.

 

And then one day two alphas and a beta came along and pulled him out, brought him to Michigan, gave him someplace nice to stay, fed him, comforted him, cared for him.

 

Harry reaches back and fumbles around until he finds Louis’ hand, entangling their fingers together and squeezing tightly.  _ I love you, _ he thinks, and he feels his own emotions reflected back to him in Louis, the way his mate is pouring equal amounts of love and affection right back through their connection. It’s an infinite loop, unable to be broken. Harry squeezes their fingers together more tightly, feeling the steady beat of Louis’ heart against his back.

 

“Thank you for saving me.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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